To MW, With Love

You just… stopped being there.

One day you were there, and the next you weren’t.

I can’t remember what you even look like anymore.

It has been more than 5 years since I last saw you or heard from you. And that hurts.

Sometimes I wonder how life would be with you now. If we would still be friends, or acquaintances, or strangers with friendship history.

I can’t remember when we met, when I first saw you, or when you first saw me.

All I remember is that you were the cool senior that came a year to your finals. The one that ran on the running team, played basketball, was the leader of a dance team, and had an amazing voice. You gave the vibe of the cool new student that joins a new school in the first episode of a Korean series.

I never really gave you a thought at first. You were just the new student that joined a class above mine in SS2 third term, which I found weird because our school didn’t use to admit new students at that point then. They do now, though.

But I remember the first time we spoke, and what we spoke about.

I remember a lot…

I remember the day Daniel, the one that stayed in the boy’s hostel with you, said to me in front of Timothy’s mom at her food stand, the woman that sold bread and egg, indomie, and spaghetti in our school. It was either break time or after school when he said I walk in a funny and weird way, and you told him I don’t walk in a funny way, that I catwalk like models on runways, and he would know if he watched fashion shows.

I remember the MTN Pulse event at Megalite Hall, the hall owned by the owner of our school. You and your dance crew performed a dance drama to “We Plenti,” and I enjoyed it too much. But that day stayed with me because of what happened after. Your long traditional red necklace, ileke, broke, then you, Jenyo, and I picked it from the floor.

I remember the day you ran for “Hits,” our school’s pre inter-house sports competition, and you had an asthma attack right after. Your friend who had your inhaler was nowhere to be found, and the commentator had to shout his name on the microphone like five times before he came. I couldn’t come close because you were surrounded by your group of friends, but I was scared.

I remember the conversation we had on the school bus going to the event center, how you were surprised I liked and listened to Fireboy, as I sang along to “Jealous” playing from someone’s music box. He was one of your favorites then. But you loved Burna Boy too, maybe a bit too much, and now every time I hear “On the Low” by Burna Boy playing, it takes me right back to 2019, to you.

You commented on my novel reading habit while the popular Yoruba school rhymes like “Ise agbe, Ise ile awa…” played from the bus radio in the background.

I remember when we came back to school and we were a few steps from the gate. Someone commented on my flat stomach and said it looked like I had no womb, and you said it looked so good on me. Funny how I don’t have my flat stomach anymore. I miss it though.

The way you knew about all my firsts, my first love and my first heartbreak, my first dream job and the one I eventually chose, my biggest fear and my softest regret then.

Even five years later, you’re still the one I’ve had the best conversations with. The most emotionally intelligent person I’ve ever met, the one who understands me the most, and somehow, that hasn’t changed.

Now that I think about it, you weren’t just a friend. You took the role of an elder brother in my life.

It’s ironic that almost all the friends I made later know you, but they never met you or the version of my life that had you in it.

I talk about you a lot sometimes, like you never really left. You’re still here.

And I remember your graduation. I was in SS2 then. I dressed prettily that day, but I was sad a lot.

That was the last day I saw you physically.

But I saw you after that, in the background of Cardinal’s picture, a senior turned friend that I made in uni. The day he posted that picture, I was spellbound. I just kept staring into the background as if looking at you for too long would make you magically appear.

Now, I think you’re better as a good memory. Maybe it’s a good thing that what we became never got the chance to taint what we were.

Maybe unfinished stories are the best because they give the best ending. No heartbreaks, no drama, no regrets, no painful memories, just good memories and a great end.

Just a long pause that became a stop.

I miss you. But I always wonder if I ever cross your mind, if you remember me even if it’s for a split second.

The last I heard, you joined the US Army. Wherever you are, I hope you are good, and truly happy. I hope life is not too heavy on your shoulders.

I don’t know where you are now, or what life has turned you into. I only know I never got an ending from you. No explanation, no goodbye, no final words. Just silence where a person used to be.

And maybe that is what stays with me the most. Not losing you, but never really knowing what happened to you.

In an alternate universe, we still talk, we still vibe, we are still connected, and we are what we are. Friends. You know this version of me in my early twenties, not the one you last knew as 16.