Thoughts.
One Saturday morning, I had been excited. Extremely so. It wasn't the caterer's bell that spurred such excitement from me. I was hungry, but for a while because of my excitement, I hadn't paid attention to the familiar hunger pangs. Boarding school made hunger look sexy.
The previous day, being Friday, we had gotten new set of uniforms. But it wasn't the excitement that came from entering a new class that left me in a light mood that morning, it was the fact that we were going to be wearing skirt and jacket starting from the following week as opposed to the pinafor we usually wore.
We were finally senior students and although we were the last in the level - SS1, wearing skirt and jacket had been a dream we couldn't wait to live.
So that Saturday morning, I had taken my new set of uniforms to the ironing room to make them presentable for Monday. The plans I had had for that uniform ehn.
There's this thing we used to do back then that would seem childish now. If there were no lines, at least ten lines on the uniform, you haven't started yet. That's what we call getto. I don't know if that's the spelling, but that's how we pronounce it.
In the ironing room, I had met someone there. It would have been a miracle if it were to have been different. Someone is always ironing. Even at 2am.
I had leaned into the room, the both sides of the door anchoring my hands in the process to tell her I would be next in line, after she was done.
While I had leaned in, a sneaky little bitch that had been on the door greeted me in a rather weird manner. She's famous for injuring people and leaving scars. A heartless son of a metal. A nail.
I hadn't responded to her greetings. So when I was done with my business, I went out of the ironing room to go get myself ready for breakfast. The hunger wasn't sexy to look at anymore.
Reaching outside, Sir harmattan had said hi. What's with all the unwanted greeting na? I however responded to sir harmattan because his had left pain.
Apparently, the sneaky little bitch had lived up to her reputation again and had left an ugly gash on my right hand. I could literally see my bone and Sir harmattan being the conceited human that he was, never failed to rub it in the more.
I began crying. Oh, how much it had hurt. I didn't understand how I failed to realize that as I leaned deeper into the door, the sneaky batch had dug deeper. I didn't even feel anything.
So, I dragged my legs to the Sick bay after Sir harmattan had had enough laugh. The Sickbay was rumored to have had a nurse that gave injections as a panel beater would do to a car that needed fixing.
Luckily for me, I had met a lesser evil. The nurse on duty had just poured iodine on the gash and used a cotton wool to cover its nakedness.
I knew she was supposed to have dressed the wound in a better way. Stitch it or something and not the poverty sticken cotton wool she had given it to wear when her mates would have adorned the gash in a fine Armani suit.
Years later, I would pay dearly for that nurse's ineptitude.
Present day.
Location: Rest room.
Time: 8:am
Mission: To evacuate every brown looking amoeba called Faeces from Town Anus to Country White toilet.
Sorry for the break in transmission. When that nurse had left me to my fate, she had left me with a present. You see, that wound didn't heal properly and anytime I go to the toilet to defecate, it hurts. With each dump, that injury stings. Even when I use my right hand to lift or carry something heavy, it hurts.
I'm here in the toilet and the familiar pain came back and I thought to tell you my story. I don't know how long this pain would continue but I do understand why people say the past never really goes away. When you find yourself in a shitty situation, you would always remember the past that got you in that shitty situation.
The good thing is, it would only be for a while. It is in your power to dust yourself up (like I have cleaned my bum bum) and walk out majestically.
Not everyone can shit comfortably. Some have only known purging all their lives. And some, constipation. Use purging and constipation to define real life situations. You see now? It would be fine, dear one. ❤️