“I can’t love again!”

“I won’t love again!”

“There is nothing in this world that can make me love again!”

My heart is super-bound with nothing but blood, leaving behind zero space for anything else, let alone something called love. No more love! My fragile soul aches with incurable pain that can only be healed by the culprit responsible for this deplorable state that I find myself, Ngozi.

All those pretty little smiles she wore on her face; all those never-ending hugs she gave me; all those sugar-coated words she whispered into my itching ears were nothing but mere pretense. Big lies! Big deception! They were just her ways of killing boredom, something I misinterpreted for love.

I’ve been tricked… I’ve been cheated. I’ve been used like a blood donor whose generosity has been taken for granted. The visible scars she left behind is too dark to be lightened by any other lady. This feeling is so haunting; it might keep me single for the rest of my life even though I do not wish to live like a Catholic priest.

Meet Ngozi, a charming girl by looks and definition. That kind of feminine creature whose beauty and curvaceous assets speaks louder than words. She is endowed with inner beauty too, which makes me wonder if she is the only one created by God.

If anyone should ask me on a regular day, “What is your biggest wish in life?” I wouldn’t hesitate for one moment to reply, “I wish Ngozi and I are married.” 

Flashback to three years ago. Before I finished high school, Ngozi and I related very deeply like Scooby and Shaggy. Memories… We’ve shared a lot together. How can I forget the first time she called me deep at night just to say ‘I miss you, Kofi’? Or the kisses she rained down my cheeks each day after prep?

My memory log wouldn’t be complete if I fail to talk about Saturday night’s entertainment; it afforded us time and space to visit unauthorised places on campus while listening to piercing chirps from the hole-bound crickets. Those were the moments I felt alive.

I liked her a lot, but I wasn’t too sure if she liked me back. There were signs that made me believe she liked me too: Like the way she gets super excited each time her female friends called her by my name. She was all I ever wanted in life beside my high school certificate.

Despite these transparent indications, my actions were very opaque. I wasn’t necessarily dumb, but my lips couldn’t speak beyond ‘I miss you’. The first year of high school came by quickly. The second year followed suit. Final year arrived faster than I’d hoped. Graduation loomed large.

The friend-zone barrier was a big constraint; it placed a limit on my motives. I yearned for more, but I couldn’t risk losing her friendship either. There were no mountains before us, but this was the furthest our relationship could climb.

It wasn’t long before the last day on campus arrived. This was the moment I’d been waiting for. That evening, we met in front of the administration block and we had a lengthy conversation. We talked about everything else, ranging from sports to politics, but love. She made things easier for me by asking, “Is there something you really want to tell me?”

“No!” Panicky, I answered, “I have something to tell you… But no until tomorrow.”

“OK!” She glared for a second with eyes that spoke in parables, “If you say so.”

I couldn't wait to break the duct at sunrise. But little did I know that yesterday was the last time I was ever going to set my eyes on her.

“At mid-night, her dad came to pick her away. She’s gone home.” One of her roommates narrated this to me the next morning.

I lost control of myself. I still can’t explain how it happened, but I saw myself crying on bended knees with a rose flower in my hands. Everyone laughed. Everyone, except one lady who called me from behind, “Kofi!”

“Kofi!!!” The voice grew louder. I turned around only to see my mum standing next to me.

“Won’t you go to school today?” She asked.

Stunned, I replied, “What are you talking about? I just finished school yesterday.”

She drew a little closer and whispered into my ears, “Are you alright, my dear?” That was all I needed to hear to make me realise that I’d just woken up from a dream. How I wished mum had never woke me up... Probably I may have found the address to Ngozi’s house.

All the tears I’d shared and the love I’d experienced were nothing close to real. Ngozi was just a fictional character who existed in my dreams. This might sound a little crazy… Until I find her in real life, I won’t be able to love again. Somebody please help me find ‘my Ngozi’ or else I might remain single for life, even though I do not wish to live like a Catholic priest.

THE END!!!

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