Whenever we are broke, my Best friend Seyi and I like to consider selling our body parts. The last time we had no money, I remember it was New Year’s Eve, he had suggested selling his heart. His point was: since the human heart is rare, he could make so much money from peddling his that would last him a lifetime. I remember telling him the reason heart transplants are sparse, is because we humans have just one and that a crucial thing about money is not just working hard to get it; but being able to spend it.
While we were in my room that day, miserable, he said something that caught my eye. He said; “maybe the reason we are suffering now is because we have so much hope for things to become better. Another way of saying; what if we are missing out on life because we are so fixated on the future.
I will not lie; this statement came as a surprise to me considering the fact that he had a track record of saying stupid things on purpose. In fact, at that point, I was so impressed that I had taken out my pocket-sized jotter to write it only for him to tell me he had thought of something better. He went on to say; “if life is so shit, maybe we should consider death”. At first, I wanted to punch him in the face, but I resisted the urge. I took my phone and left the room with the realization that I had just learnt one of the biggest lessons of my life; wise people never try to say wise things.
Recently, I failed a very important interview that would have changed my life in way that I wouldn’t be here talking to your sorry asses. For someone who has failed at most things, failing that interview didn’t come as a surprise to me. The thing about that particular interview is, it is structured in a manner that you focus on it the most and drop other plans. And when you fail, you at once feel you are in the middle of the ocean with a punctured life jacket. Like the average candidates for that interview, I had all my eggs in one basket. But unlike those applicants who were crying inconsolably, when I failed, I didn’t feel disappointed; I always knew it was a possibility. And I had made my peace with that.
I believe contrary to what everyone thinks, having doubt is better than hope. We doubters never suffer the worst punishment of the man who is hopeful; we are never disappointed. When things don’t go our way, we don’t feel cheated. We also don’t delude ourselves with the stupid thought that things will always be good for us — we have realized that no matter how good we are; life can just suck.
From experience, I know there is a certain freedom that comes with hopelessness. I like to think of it as it hitting the bottom of a pit and the only movement you can make is up. Sometimes when I find myself in bad situations, I remind myself that maybe this is what life is supposed to be now and that if I just took a minute to stop hoping for a better situation, I would see the beauty in my present challenge.
I am a man with little optimism for the future. I do not hope to be rich. Having wealth sounds nice but then I have realized that our hope for success doesn’t increases the chances of success. If it does something, it only stops us from appreciating the present. And since I have built my life around the greatest wisdom; that only the present is real, I have to find joy in every single moment this unfair world has to offer.
Speaking of enjoying moments, on the day after I failed the interview, I saw Rose. Rose is a childhood friend, and we were close. That day, I couldn’t help but notice how she had remained beautiful over the years. How she still had her laugh. Her laugh was one of those that when she did it, her eyes would squint and they would expose her full dentition. Her laugh was of those few things I could say was genuine. Not only was I addicted to her smile and her personality, I was to her body shape. She is not tall; she has little tits and a bigger than normal ass. You wouldn’t be wrong if you called her my ideal girl. I remember, I met her at a bus stand, while she was on her way out. We talked for a minute after which she continued on her mission to discover ways for humans to live on Mars. The thing is, I still like rose. I also like about seventy other girls whose names I can’t remember. Sometimes, I can have this crazy fantasy about them. But then, what makes more sense? Staying at the bus-stand, thinking about a fantasy that would most certainly never happen or going back home to my lubricants?
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