It always starts like this:

I’m driving the pick-up on the N4 heading towards Aburi and you’re in the passenger seat looking radiant as fuck and you’re rummaging through your backpack trying to find a case full of CD playlists you spent the last two nights making because the car is old and my radio doesn’t have an aux cord. You find the case and select a CD for the mood. Then you insert it in. What songs are on it? I ask you, and you grin and tell me to concentrate on getting to our destination unscathed. At that point Mr. Eazi’s Skin Tight starts playing and you bob your shoulders in cadence with the slow rhythm of the song and you mouth the words in your goofy way, making me laugh. You laugh too; that unique laugh of yours and the sun streams through the car window and from the corner of my eye I see a silhouette that is you and I’m tempted to pull over to the side of the road and just lose myself in your dark shadow but I control myself and focus on driving.
It’s always tough being around you. I’ve been on the internet long enough to have grown tired of clichΓ©s like “you’re my kryptonite” etc. but I have to say that I never knew that it was physically possible to feel intoxicated by someone’s presence till I met you. It just doesn’t make sense to me and I won’t waste words by attempting to describe it but I just want you to know that it takes a lot of willpower on my side not to constantly crush my lips on yours and blurt out how much I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you. A lot of willpower and the fact that I feel saying those things too many times takes away from the value of the words and God forbid that ever happens.
The songs keep playing, and sometimes we both sing along and other times we just remain in a comfortable silence, ruminating on how well these artistes capture our feelings with their lyrics. And in one of those periods of silence I’m struck by a funny thought that you should have a wheel in front of you too because you’re driving me crazy by just being. By just being.

10 thoughts on “Daydreaming

  1. Damn you, Antony, for making it impossible not to love you (and your writing). Ugh.
    So you paa, every genre, you can do? Eh? Pidgin, you can write. Flash fiction, you can write. Comedy, you can write. YA romance nso you can write? Stop intimidating me! *cries*

  2. Brother man, wey inspiration that?
    Hm, the shodi get waaa 3
    But Chale nice piece, I wish I had your words some but i still dey use “you’re my kryptonite”

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