It's a bad day. Not a bad life.

At least, that's what I think.

My room is dark.

And cold. It’s even darker under my brown covers where I am hiding. But warmer.

Two pillows are nestled under my head, supporting my neck. One is between my legs and the last one is hugged tightly to my chest. It is a comfortable hiding place.

I hear raindrops drumming on my roof. The sound of water wetting my floor tells me I forgot to close my window yesterday after coming back from the pepper-soup joint with Ayobami. I know there’s a pool forming on my floor.

My phone vibrates twice. Whatsapp. With eyes closed, I tap around my bed in search of the phone. I find it and turn it on to see a message from the head writer in a writer’s room that I am currently a part of.

“Hauwa, we’re waiting for you”.

FUCK

It’s 10:03.

I slept past 10am today? It is not the time that shocked me. It’s the day. This writer’s room is held only three times a week and it’s usually the highlight of my week so I make an effort to show up on time because I genuinely like what we do.

I rush out of bed and join the meeting. In one hour, we review a script and it is over. I crawl back into bed and stay under the covers for 10 more minutes before I push it back off and get my laptop.

I have deadlines. 

Serious ones that I’m stalling on. I have been paid for a number of jobs that I haven’t delivered on. I am so close to being called out as a thief on the internet. Lmaooo. But I simply can’t get myself to do them. Don’t get me wrong. I will get them done. I always do. But it’s hard to move today.

I had felt like crap the whole weekend. And I deserve most of it. I had brought it upon myself.

I lent someone some money earlier this year and I just heard they relocated. I’m not even joking. Why will you relocate with my money? It’s not even funny and I’m mad at myself because the chances of getting the money back is slim to none. Surely, I can’t get on a plane to Manchester to fight for money, can I?

Can I? I could but raising money for flight to fight for a fraction of the money? Going on my to-do list.

My friend’s brother got married over the weekend and after seeing clips, I wish I had attended. However, the wedding was in Abuja and after spending all my savings on getting a new place, I absolutely cannot afford a flight ticket.

I had said something mean to someone I love and now, I am too proud to apologise because why should I apologise? I was right AND it was true. But I also understand that if you have to choose between being right and being kind. Be kind. But EVEN THO! I will rather die than apologise.

Living alone is the worst. I should do a separate newsletter on this. You’re excited to get a new place but no one tells you how alone you’d be with your thoughts and how much confrontation you’d have to have with yourself. It’s almost scary. They say you grow from it but I am not growing to anywhere, please.

I have run out of ideas. This is not even the cute ‘Oh I have writer’s block’ problem. It feels like my well of creativity is dried up. LIKE DRIED. SUN-BAKED. SHRIVELLED UP. FRIED TO A CRISP. You get it.

And right now, someone just called me to write a comedy script that I just know is going to eat into my time with a STAGGERINGLY LOW reward but I don’t know how to say no. WHY? I want my name out there as a screenwriter but I don’t want to starve! I like food.

So I am at a standstill. I have to get back to her today. I would have called that friend to talk about this but we are mad at eachother.

The only highlight of my weekend was the virtual hangout I hosted on Sunday where a group of girlies and I talked about our struggles with Jealousy and it all started from this newsletter. I was so excited, I was practically shrieking. Everyone came through with such a vibe. Moving forward, I’m definitely hosting more virtual hangouts like this one. If you’re interested, let me know.

My phone beeps again. Sigh. I turn it over. The email logo pops up. It’s someone reminding me of a deadline.

It’s not even 12 yet and my day is shit. How is one supposed to live like this?

I get out of bed to find my mop. And as I go over the water on my floor, I remind myself that it’s just a bad day not a bad life.

I feel a wetness on my arm. I look up.

God, I have to wash my curtains too?