L!
Counting my losses. Obviously, another interlude.
It is safe to say that introductions are no longer necessary, but it never hurts to say, "Hello, once again."
January, February, and March. More like anxiety, betrayal, and reluctant acceptance. The reviews for April, May, June, and July will come at a later date. Recently, I was speaking to someone, and I told them that one of these days, I might find a large body of water and bury myself in there. I said it as a joke, but a part of me was ready to follow through like a crazed soldier following the orders of a charismatic commander.
With each passing day, my will to live dwindles like the last flicker of a dying candle. Every day is like the start of a long prison sentence, and this feeling is sponsored by never-ending losses in all ramifications of my existence—some of these losses are funny, and the rest are just downright unbearable.
Sometime in April, I was interviewing for a dollar-paying remote job, and at one point, everything about that interview was going in the right direction because responses on the other end leaned on the favorable side of things. I was optimistic about getting that job till I got to the stage where they had to test my internet speed.
As soon as I got that mail, I burst out laughing. The prospect of getting that job vanished right before my eyes. The job required a download speed of 30 Mbps, and Airtel decided to bless me with 4 Mbps. Pitiful! I ran to my friend’s house to use his MTN and did not fare any better—MTN offered me a paltry 2 Mbps. And, before you ask me why I did not try Starlink, I would say if I could afford Starlink, do you think I would have penned this newsletter?
Speaking about other losses, those are the ones I still cannot comprehend or fully articulate. I find myself awake at odd hours of the night, wondering if I am just meant to exist, live an unremarkable life, and just wait around to die. Currently, there is no excitement to living. Just nail-biting episodes sponsored by anxiety and sabre-toothed uncertainty waiting to shatter whatever is left that keeps me whole.
Speaking of losses, people tell you that in the long run, your losses do not matter, and you are not defined by them. But in this extremely conditional world, I am self-aware enough to realize that statement hinges on the promise of a future win.
What if there is no win in sight? No trumpet of triumph to be blown? Then what? The same people who told you that you are more than your losses judge you and crucify you with the same losses that have refused to let go of you. Unless there is a win, be prepared to be hanged by your losses—the losses they said did not matter.
Lastly, I write this for myself and another struggling person out there to look back on for whenever the sea of success finds us—I hope we stay afloat to enjoy everything success brings.
Keep your head up; it gets better—at least, that’s what I heard.
I have shared my losses. Do you feel comfortable sharing yours? Is there something you still cannot get over?
Write to me - nezoozennezo@gmail.com
Tell me what you've watched lately. My current watch - Scarface and Sandman Season 2.
Bye! Take good care of yourself. See you in the final episodes of these damn interludes.
Song of the week -
Nezo,
Nigerian by birth,
Indian by hemp,
Canadian by Loud.
Signed: Nezo, St Patron of women with vowels in their names, particularly those with 0-2 boyfriends.
🫂🫂🫂
❤️🔥 ❤️