We quarreled over the most minute things. I think i cared too much. Most times, I would call, trying to check on him, find out how he was and be assured that he had not died at work. He missed most calls and would call back much later. When he did, I would ask why he did not pick my calls and would expect a simple, “sorry, i was too busy” but ended up with long epistles on how i was nagging, how he owed me no explanations and considered my actions rude. He would take time to remind me that we were not age mates and i needed to show some respect.

Okay. Ce finis.

The next time, my offence was using the verb ‘always’. I had asked him a question about him and he refused to answer. “You always avoid questions about yourself and family”. And the epistle began again.

With every quarrel, I would keep away for weeks or months, trying to clear the air and give both of us space. But because i never was comfortable with unsettled issues, i always went back to plead and try to make amends. Lol… he loved to be begged and be at the position to forgive. I would write, call and spend time with him.
“It is a cold night, most people are already asleep. I am half awake, half asleep. I feel so cold, teeth chattering, legs folding.I know I should succumb and let sleep pull me in. But, thoughts of you hinder that. I am naive and shy with little or no exposure but I understand the diction of my heart. You bring out another side of me… free and full of smiles. D, I need your warmth. I need your guide, pointing me back on track. I need your laughter and joy. I need to know that when I am at my lowest, you will be available and willing to encourage me. I need you to be my personal person. Right now, minutes before my eyes lose the battle against the gravity of sleep, I picture you. I imagine telling you with all sincerity, “I am sorry for hurting you… for doubting you, for twisting things up falsely”. I see myself holding on to your hands, awaiting your response. D, I can actually wait till my hairs turn gray but if I wait that long, I’ll probably not be waiting for the same thing… or the same you.


Wow. I think i had it really bad. And he knew. We would eventually return to ‘pre morbid’ state but that was after totally acknowledging my fault and seeking for his forgiveness. Never at any point was he at fault. Not once. And if i made no effort to make things right, things stayed the way they were. Wrong.

Finally, he left. New job. Moving on.

Before he left, we had settled all ‘fights’. We were on very good terms. So, i decided, once more and for the last time, to ask if our friendship had or was to have a deeper meaning. “Do you know exactly what you want to do with medicine right now?” I said not exactly. “Does that mean you drop out of school?” No. “Good, the same applies in this situation”.
“For this reason
I choose to live
If only to believe
That this season
Is not ending without you.

I cry out in pain
Even as joy I fane
Knowing that in time
All I would have entwined
Is the memory of our touch.

Don’t leave me alone
I am left pleading
With no other choosing
I am in need
Of you indeed

Let it then be our parting
You are not staying
But don’t hold on to me
Else you hurt more than me
I am ready”.
Barely a month later. The last straw that broke the camel’s back for both us came up just like the other quarrels; something so minute and easily overlooked. At that point, I was angry at this “Yoruba-D”.

I finally realized how foolish i had been. How could i have made myself so low for one not God? Why did i keep returning to him? I had answers for that one. My friends had told me over and over, “he is definitely not worth it”, “why are you acting like the physically abused wife who keeps going back to get more beatings?” Their words finally hit home and i think intense prayers being offered for me got past the prince of Persia to the answering room in Heaven. I am sure God must have sighed in relief, “finally, she gets it”.

It took months. A lot of time to move past the whole issue, going through all the stages of grief. But i learnt, didn’t I? A friend said, “you have a youthful story to tell”. You do not have to follow the wheel, you have your will.

#back to our articles. Love you!


About the Author


Eunice is a medical doctor, writer and photographer whose love for art compliments her dedication to health and science. She is interested in communicating health related issues in the simplest, yet artistic form and generally improving health status through awareness.

One thought on “WHEEL/WILL.

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