A few days ago,i read this book 'The fault in our stars' by John Greene and it struck a chord in me. In one of the scenes,the heroine tried to get her sick boyfriend to come to terms with his life. He was never going to be an NBA pro basketball player nor was he going to ever get the chance to be a real life hero because his whole body was riddled with cancer. I am happy that by the end of the book,he got to understand that. Whatever the fault in your star may be,it is still your star and you have to live with it. Although that a long time ago i accepted my star,i still find myself bemoaning my life and asking myself why am living this sort of life. I help myself by slipping into a world of my own in my mind always. But it is rather funny at times because my mind still forces me to have bad experiences in that alter life,worse experiences than I have in real life at times. It makes me wonder if am the one inviting all my troubles with my thoughts.
This is why i have decided to write an autobiography of my life up to this age because i really dont know what life has in store for me. I may die tomorrow or i may not and this would be a bedtime story for my children but whatever happens, i just have to pen down my side of the story.
Like i wrote earlier,am Harriet Walters a black Nigerian female who is currently age twenty and one. I may ask myself why i was born as Harriet but i never ask myself why i was born Nigerian like some people i know do. I love being Nigerian. I love my birth town of Umuahia,the capital city of Abia state. Just like most Nigerians hate Nigeria,most people hate Umuahia too. They complain of its quietness and dullness, but that is what i love most about it. Nothing ever happens here except the high handedness of the governors. The only thing i dont really like is that its so small that we are all connected in a way. You cant go anywhere without running into someone you know. Least of all,ever noticeable me.
I have been both fortunate and unfortunate to have been blessed with a unique baby face on a very rubenesque body and to top it all,a rather undisguiseable baby voice that everyone loves. It can be very tiny and it can be piercingly loud. Even online,i cannot be hidden. I remember the time i conducted a little experiment on the popular 2go chat app. Back then,the lesbians just would not let us be in the chat rooms. I began to wonder what it felt like to be a lesbian. So i added one up and pretended to be a lesbian.
Girl asked for my vagina picture! Having seen a few in the phones of boys,i knew African vaginas were not pretty so hell would have frozen before i would have snapped mine to see if they were that ugly. Unfortunately for me,knocking on her door was an old 2go friend of mine who happened to be her neighbour. When she left the room to get him what he wanted,he took a peek at her chat and saw my username and my claims of being a lesbian. He didnt stick around though to see that i apologised and said i could not snap a picture of my vagina. There is a reason why even bikinis cover there! Back to his house,boy came online immediately and started to tease me. Apparently he gad not gottten lesbo vibes from me. I told him the truth and we had a good laugh. That was not the first time nor was it the last time,a secret action of mine turned out to be not a secret.
The perfect example should be why my mother is torn between love and hatred for me, her second child and second daughter. They say second daughters are always troublesome but in my case,i am trouble itself.