'25

A memoir

January. January was when optimism held me by the waist and made me sugar-laden promises that we were going to have a good year. Drunk on the high of a fresh year, I believed her. I believed her when she told me that my bank account would grow as fat as an obese woman in her forties, that my academic reports would be a source of joy and that I'd finally end my on and off relationship with my skin’s rebellion.

February. February was when I knew that January lied. See, January didn't tell me that I wouldn't even be spared the decency of a notice, before I lost my very serious, very foreign remote job. I already planned to quit anyway, so when anyone asked, I told them that I did. I wondered a lot during this time, what other things January had failed to tell me. I would find out as the year unfolded.

March. March was impatient. She came in a rush, armed with examinations. I spent a lot of time switching between being so awake and being so sleepy, in a bid to make an academic comeback. Before she left, she handed me a job. What should have been a source of joy was another fleeting experience that I hoped would pass quickly.

April. April believed she was better than March so she tried to outdo her. She gave me another job, or so I thought. She watered my savings, comforted me when my favorite jeans were stolen and when I lost faith in my career.

May. May arrived gingerly. She led me to some really amazing people. And one special person, she only teased me with their presence.

June. June was sweet. She arrived bearing gifts- a friend, in the real sense of the word, a peaceful role. And the rest, I do not recall.

July. July gave me tough love. She made me overextend myself in many ways. I wrote to you for thirty days, led a marketing team and failed woefully at it, enrolled in an expensive marketing bootcamp, volunteered for a role and then quit when it got uncomfortable. The good news was that everything was worth it, failures included. July taught me to bite more than I can chew more often.

August. August brought calmer times, despite the examinations that accompanied her. They were the hardest examinations I had ever experienced and the results were nothing short of abysmal. My favorite brand gave me some urgent 2k and I didn't have time to enjoy it because the debt of the marketing bootcamp was knocking at the door.

September. Failure marked September, so many that I can't bear to detail. The highlights were resuming IT at a great place and organizing free social media classes, an exercise that previously terrified me.

October. October tried to take my life, in multiple ways. The first was a near death experience, involving a piece of akara lodged in my throat that had me choking for air. I really thought that was the end. It was an experience I assumed would come with some sort of epiphany. The epiphany never came. The second was a brutal lice infestation that nearly ran me insane, compelling me to an impulsive haircut. The third was an agbako bus ride, which you can get full details of here

November. November held my palms, firmly and sweetly, like she had my back. But when I needed her the most, she vanished. I consoled myself with a pricey birthday gift, sponsored by my savings.

December. December was neither sober nor tumultuous, just a clever in-between. My savings cried some more. I wrote end of the year emails to some of my favorite people and I forgot to write one to myself.

2025, you will not be missed.