The Identity Chase

This may pass across as a long read, but do read. Every line is worth it. I promise. This post is one I personally like.

This post is dedicated to God, the source of Inspiration.


Source: Google

Help me

All I can hear is the echo of my voice…
I can’t breathe! Help me!
But the silence just gets worse
The darkness gets thicker
I try to claw my way out of the darkness
It only suffocates me
The last thing I remember is a heavy slap on my face and then I recede into nothingness…
I wake up to find a man beside me
“Hello stranger, he pipes, what are you doing here?”
My spirits soar
At last some help!
I’m looking for something, I sputter in excitement; can u help me find it, I ask?
Oh I know just the thing, he says
Money! He screams
Money answers everything!
I look at him, my emotions in a jumble
Are you sure? I ask
Oh yes, he says, money is the way forward!
I was confused about how money could help me
He didn’t even ask me what I was looking for.
I wanted an answer so badly I just followed him.

Don’t bring me back here!!!
Please! I’ll do anything to be away from here!!!
Help me!
I have all the resources to satisfy your whims!
Please take me away from here! Please!
But my pleas fall on deaf ears and the door clangs shut very loudly
Disillusioned I fall into a heap
Unaware of when sleep comes to claim me…

Wake up!!
What! Wh.. Who… Me?
When did I get married?
I open my eyes to the very picture of Aphrodite all my senses became alert instantly!
If this wasn’t heaven nothing else was!
Are we married? I ask
My eyes heavily lidded in lust
Oh no dear she answers sultrily
But we will be soon
I close my eyes in pleasure
Nothing beats this! nothing!
As she leaves, leaving me languishing on the bed I begin to relive our pleasure filled moments
Grrrr! My phone rings very loudly
Jolting me rudely from my reverie
Hello! I bellow in anger
Within a second my anger vanished. Even sweeter than the former was the voice over the phone
“I have perfumed my bed and I have your favourites on. My chauffeur will pick you up...”
Hardly had she finished speaking when a loud knock vibrates on my door
I dress up hurriedly to my destruction…
Ah! This is the life!
Life cannot get better!
Trapezing from girl to girl!
And none of them not having an inkling of what’s going on!
Ah I rub my hands in pleasure…
I love my life!

If you touch me!
Do you know who I am!
I will slap you!
The last thing I remember is a kick to my shin and exploding pain before the darkness envelopes me once again…

“I’m talking to you!”
With rapidly blinking eyes I am jolted back to the present
“This is it, man”
“If you try this thing, no more worries for you man, this is the key to respect, man”
“Just take a sniff”
I don’t know about this, I stutter
“Don’t you trust me?”
With great trepidation I sniff a little
The feeling was indescribable
Nothing beats this
I must have all of this
I say in excitement
And I had all of it
I want more
I still want more
I must have more…
I swear I could smell it
I bring my nose closer to take a sniff
I open my eyes to relish the scene
And all I see is darkness…
“Dance this dance!”
But I’m tired
“You must continue o!”
But I’m tired!
“If you don’t dance no one will accept you…”
With aching limbs I continue to dance…
I am dancing but my steps are not quick enough
Very loudly, whips land on my back
Ah! Have mercy! I cry
“Don’t you want to be accepted? Don’t you want to be part of us?”
I do not answer
I continue to dance
The dance of recognition
The dance to be accepted
This time I know exactly when I lose consciousness
And for the first time I appreciate the darkness…

What we are about to offer you is unparalleled
We hear of this darkness that consumes you
And we beat our chests to tell you that the end has come to the darkness!
Our only condition is that you agree…
This must be right I think
It has to be
It must work
It just has too…
The horrors of that time are indescribable
The evil lurking in the within is boundless
I do not wait to be thrown into the darkness this time
I walk into it with joy and pleasure…

My search is fruitless
I have searched and searched and my soul is weary with pain
This gaping hole deep where I cannot touch is sickening
I cry but I cannot cry out
I weep but my lips do not move
This darkness is nauseating…
Perhaps ending it all is the answer
I make haste to end it all…
Suddenly a bright light envelopes me
What is this I ask? Who are you? Who am I?
“You are who I say you are” a voice from nowhere answers
A voice unearthly
So sweet the darkness recedes at its echo

The voice of God.

@Its_Kash thinking on www(dot)obafuntay(dot)com


Many of us face this every day, in different ways going through life in search of, who we truly are, chasing after an identity to call ours.

In this pursuit for Identity, to know who we are, we’ve succumbed to peer-pressure, seemingly ‘lived the life’, trying to fill up the void within, in anyway we can, we’ve made bad decisions, terrible resolutions, and eventually, have lost ourselves… Who we truly are? What we were made to do? Our purpose. Our Identity.

When you feel defeated, worthless and think you can’t amount to anything good? That’s the devil talking, lying, that’s his job and he has been defeated. Ending it all is never the answer. It’s time to listen to that sweet voice, the voice of God.

You are who I say you are – God

But then, this is what I think, what do I know?


Beneath the Smile, II

Thanks for waiting. In case you missed the preview, find it here, so you know what to expect. If you are not sure what Beneath the Smile is about, please check the preview out.

The project aims at looking beyond the smiles of the next person, to see what’s really beneath, what’s really going on? How people really need help and won’t bother saying anything about it but would rather cover it up with a façade of strength, with a smile.
It’s time to look beneath the smile and lend a helping hand. People are going through real things, these are their stories.

We hope that you’d be kind enough to leave a comment. Your feedback is important to us.

First story, Beneath the Smile I by Anonymous Writer

Today, we have our second true story, re-told by @Its_kash

Please Read.

The ‘Beneath the Smile’ Project.

behind the smile (design)

“Everything is never as it seems” – My favorite line from Owl city’s Fireflies.

You know what they say about the tears of a clown, putting up a good front, trying to fool the public but dying inside? Don’t let my glad expression, give you the wrong impression.

I hate my life.

Don’t be surprised, it’s not a harsh thing to say, pain is nothing new to me, I live with the reality that I was created to endure and suffer hardness.

I am Damilola Benson.

At the age of 5, I was diagnosed with Ventricular Septal defect, In simpler terms, I was born with a hole in my heart, well, for some funny reasons, doctors didn’t detect it early … so yeah, all my childhood memories revolve around me, checking in and out of hospitals due to sudden loss of breath and other health concerns.

• • •                                                              

Err… Damilola! How old are you now‘13, sir’, I reluctantly answered …Ah! You are a big girl o, come and give uncle a big hug

That was Uncle Sola, Dad’s younger brother, as usual, he reeked of alcohol, I never really liked him, and he seemed really shifty…I had caught him stealing glances at me; in ways uncles shouldn’t look at nieces.

Oya Dami, get uncle some food to eat, drop it on the stool beside the cupboard”, ‘But Uncle Sola,’ – I replied, ‘Mummy says no one should take food to their room and that everyone should eat at the dining table’

He began yelling at me, going on about how rude I am, so to avoid any trouble, I just took the food to his room, he locked the door behind me, flung me on the bed ripped off my clothes and had his way. I was in tears, extreme pain, totally helpless… again.

When my parents came home, I was black and blue with my clothes ripped in places. I cried and told my parents, my mum broke down in tears and began screaming at my dad and ran to my uncle’s room, but he was nowhere to be found. But that didn’t shock me as much as my father’s reaction. He said he had always known me to be a liar and a slut. He went on to say that he’s very sure nothing happened and that my “little play” was just a ploy to get his brother out of the house. He called me a harlot and a liar and labeled my mother a witch and proceeded to hit my mum and I. He had already made a habit of hitting us all, and had a steady chain of girlfriends.

At 16, the same year I got admission into the university, the man I called a father threw us out of his house and brought in one of his girlfriends. Mom had no money to get us another apartment and her elder brother, Uncle George took us in, he was our savior, very kind and loving, everything my supposed father was not. He paid my fees that year, about half a million and catered to our every need.

My matric day, I was with Mum and Tunji (my only brother) and uncle had promised to leave work and join us. By 2pm, there was no sign of him, thirty minutes later, mum received a call, she started screaming and crying, what we feared the most had happened, uncle was involved in an accident on his way to my school and died on the spot. I cried my eyes out; the shoulder, on which we leaned on was gone. I wished it was my dad instead. How could he go on a day like that, my Matric day?

Five weeks later, I was summoned home, my heart skipped a bit, my mind raced, is Mum alright? Tunji? I was so uncomfortable the whole journey home. No one was saying anything to me. Well, I got home to discover that Tunji, my only brother had been murdered by cultists who had raided their hostels. I was sure there was no God and if there is one, I hate him the same way he hates me, He had taken away every good thing that had ever come my way. For weeks, I was mentally unstable, almost got checked into a mental home, I wanted to end it all, but then, there was the fear of death and leaving mother all alone. Just as expected, dad didn’t show up for the burial. I heard he said “No way! I cannot be associated with cultists”.

At school, I most times find myself having lots of mood swings, some people have the idea that I crave attention, they say all I want is to be noticed. I wouldn’t share my problems, don’t blame me, I don’ trust anybody, I don’t even trust me”. My school is fond of organizing a lot of programs, I consider irrelevant but we have no choice but to attend, the halls get so choked up and stuffy, the air conditioners are just for show, the pungent stench of sweat in the air, I run out of breath and collapse.

I hear their mockery, I hear the voices … “she don dey manifest again” … “This one don start again” … “Attention seeker oshi” … before I fade into the darkness. Some still think it’s my way of craving attention.


I wish we could trade places, let’s see how long they will last.

So, this is me! I must survive; I have to find happiness, if it even exists for me at all. I turn to parties, alcohol and sex for the temporary excitement they offer. Judge me if you must, I can’t be bothered. Anything to numb these sour memories and feelings, I would do. I do not care.

I wear a mask of a smile, but beneath is a 21-year-old, who is just hanging onto the edge, bracing herself for the next storm to hit. I fight a war against the mirror every day, I can’t stand my reflection, I just want to be someone else, and my wounds are too deep to heal. I am too angry and hurt.

I hide beneath my smile.

• • •



N.B. The project goes on with Monday’s Beneath the Smile, III by @bRinEstAkeS Fiction)

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