6am boxing prep with my new trainer – canceled again. As the frustration is pounding in my heart, I find myself wondering what to do with myself this morning now. Speeding through the streets at the same rate as the tears bolting down my face, I can’t help but think about how the past few months and year have gone. 

In the mirror of my life, I see myself as a fortress of strength, a vessel of determination, a beacon of success. Yet, I am a stranger to my own reflection, a silhouette against the backdrop of what others perceive of me. Beneath the facade I put up, I am a symphony of solitude, playing a melancholic tune that echoes within the confines of my heart. A smile, a jester, a meme; these are the masks I wear daily… my armor against the world, a camouflage for the pain that throbs deep in the core of my soul.

These tears won’t stop, and my eyes feel puffier with each light I drive through. I’m having trouble seeing the road now. 

I yearn for a sanctuary, a haven of love, an abode of TRUST and RESPECT. The vision of a familial unit, a man and a child, loyal and loving, is a dream that haunts my waking hours. Ride or die type shit. Riding with me until the wheels fall off, until the stars lose their shine until the universe folds into itself.

I lament the warmth of kinship I’ve lost; the fabric of the family I had was once tightly woven, but is now frayed and torn. The echoes of constant laughter, meals full of love, and the shared moments of joy (and sorrow), all seem like distant memories. As if the past 11 years was a lifetime ago. The passing of time and loved ones has left a rotten cavity, a void within the bond of my small immediate unit, making us three islands in the same sea. I yearn for the closeness, but I am bound by the chains of my desperate force, the fear of contrived connections.

TRUST, LOVE, and RESPECT, the cornerstone of friendship, feels like a mirage in the desert of my heart. Friendships that mirror sisterhood. I’ve been a warrior on their behalf, yet I find myself standing alone when it’s my turn to battle. Betrayed by expectations, the sting of disillusionment settles in, leaving a bitter taste of constant AND consistent abandonment.

Damn it. The song booming through my speaker just reminded me of why I’m going so hard on my journey now…

I once held the seed of life within my belly, a symbol of a love I believed would endure the ravages of time. An Igbo warrior for the next generation. But the other half of the conception… he was an illusionist, his actions a stark contrast to the promises he whispered in the dark. He showcases others like prized jewels on social media and throughout these streets, while I was an uncut diamond in his raggedy pocket. I could never forget his words that forced me to bleed out until I was empty again. The men who cross my path seek the warmth of my body but not the depth of my soul. How, then, I wonder, can I manifest the family unit that I yearn for in my future?

Why do these lovers, family, and friends shrink from the light of affection? Why do they cloak their sentiments in shrouds of ambiguity? Why, amidst the crowd, do I feel so alone? I am lost in a labyrinth of thoughts, struggling against the strong currents of self-doubt.

I am NOT a dreamer lost in fantasies. I am NOT a puppet in the theater of delusion. This loneliness is NOT a figment of my imagination, but a shroud that I wear, a DAILY constant companion in my solitary journey.

All I seek is the rhythm of love, the symphony of affection. To love and be loved, to hold and be held. To immerse myself in the warmth of mutual adoration, to be the sun in someone’s sky as they are in mine. To find my place in the tapestry of life, not as a solitary thread but woven intricately into a beautiful design. That is my yearning, my heart’s deepest desire. That is my truth, my silent prayer whispered into the winds of the universe.

Please. Can you hear me? Do you see me?