When we were younger, our parents, friends or life introduced movies or music and many more emotional triggers that influenced us. In some ways, these sources of entertainment or situations that we experienced shaped a number of our ideals, or just made us blossom fully into who we are. Barring one of my best friends, no one knows how emotionally vested I am in the world and things around me. I am easily moved to tears. When I watched The New Legend of Shaolin, my heart broke and eyes brimmed with the treatment of Hei-Kung and Man Ting. After watching The Lion King, I sobbed at the betrayal that came from one’s own brother. When Titanic ended, I jejely got up from the chair in the living room, went to the bathroom, and wailed my being out on the floor. I was overcome with emotions for the suffering of characters, who I thought were real. (How could I have thought this? LOL)
Most people would call me pathetic for constantly being one eye-batting away from tears when I watch TV. If you watch Grey’s Anatomy, then you would know that for the whole of a couple of seasons, I cried at the end of EVERY episode, especially the episodes where Lexie Grey, and then, Mark Sloane died. The height of my misery came when Christina Yang left. It was just everything. Whatever show you think does not warrant any tears from anyone, I guarantee you, I must’ve cried for it. This might irritate people, but I’ve actually grown to love that side of me. It is a constant reminder that I am still human, and that I have not lost my sympathy card.
Let me switch it to reality. One thing I can’t bear to do is look at beggars on the street. Even though I haven’t seen any in a while, the thought of them sends me into a state where I can barely contain myself. I don’t cry, but I am filled with so much pain. Sure, some of them might mean harm, but I don’t care. The fact that other people are in constant suffering and penury should be enough to move anybody.
There is no big reason I decided to share this; it’s just the one thing that kept knocking on my mind to be let out for people to read. If you are like me, one who is always be moved to tears when they watch or experience gut-wrenching things, one who turned a hanky damp and wrinkled as he watched Jack gasp to his death in the freezing Atlantic after the Titanic capsized, or sobbed a little when you realized that Bonnie would have to die for Elena to live, or shed happy tears for the ending of Glee – Embrace It! It is unique. It is special. It is you.
I have said this before; my love for anything involving stories is very high. And this is why when I came across the show, True Detective, last year, I finished it in the equivalent period of one day, give or take a few hours. Nic Pizzolato is a fucking genius. I loved the casting, the directing, visuals, and most importantly, the storyline. One word: Excellent. So today, I decided to check up on it and find out when it would be coming back – June 21 on HBO, so I can brace myself for the upcoming awesomeness.
Then I looked at the cast again, and decided to go over their bios, blah-blah-blah. Eventually I got to Colin Farrell’s page and began to peruse. See, it’s not like I haven’t been to his page numerous times before, because I have, but this would be the first time I’d be seeing the byline ‘Sex tape’. I paused, and clicked on the link for fast access. I began to read it, and saw that it was a previous playboy model that he made the tape with, and she wanted to release the tape. Selfish much? Anyway, my curious mind moved me along to Google and I typed swiftly: ‘Colin Farrell sex tape’, and of course, xvideos, and pornhub both had it. I clicked on the first link and proceeded to watch the video, curiosity wanting me to really know the size of his dick. Now, for clarity sake, this is not like Mimi and Nikkos’ sex tape, and I wasn’t disappointed. I like the size of what I saw – above medium with moderate thickness. Mmm-hmm! His Irish accent did not lack in moving some parts of my body, and I did not fail to respond adequately. (lol) When it got to the part of him eating the box, it took everything in me to watch to the end, and let me add, he has a nice ass.
After watching the video, I asked myself, “What possesses someone to make a sex tape?” Please, please, my lover should not even pitch that idea to me. Ifoti to gbona lo ma je. Something always goes wrong in situations like this. I can’t won’t be able to stand the humiliation. Sex exploits are only for you and your best friends (if you are comfortable telling them). Sometimes, it’s really only for you. The sex tape gets released, and next thing you know, people are sizing you up, knowing the way something does you in between sheets, and how you sound when climax was crashing down on you – Ah, if it were me, I wouldn’t deal. I just wouldn’t. I know I will never look at Colin Farrell the same way again. However, for this, I respect porn stars . . . and Ben Affleck for allowing us a sneak peek at his sexy dick in Gone Girl. They are trying. I’m not one for such publicity.
So, back to my secondary school Kito Story… Where was I? Ah yes, right when MotherFucker and Sinister Bastard ruined my life.
Subsequently, I started to become more withdrawn. I began pushing people away, and for the first time, I was homesick. I wanted the cocoon of my parents and my younger siblings in our quiet home in Abeokuta. I couldn’t function, but I dared not show the weakness. During my journey of ‘strength-filled façade’, I encountered Sinister Bastard yet again. He called me into the bathroom with MotherFucker, where they wanted to get a clear sense of what happened, from me.
Oh Lord. I thought to myself. As soon as I began rehashing the events of that horrible afternoon, the earth must have taken a tilt with my life in its hands and dove for the dirty universe gutters, because the next person that walked in was definitely one of my worst, worst, WORST nightmares – Senior Pangolo (SP). SP was a cute, Igbo guy who had a cousin in my set. The moment I saw him, I became frantic, and palms turned sweaty. I cursed inwardly at something, at anything that had a hand in my situation, or that couldn’t help me. I just cursed.
He asked what we were doing in the toilet, and I blurted out, “Nothing!”
“Shut up. Why are you crowding here? What are you talking about?” he asked again, this time focusing on SB and MF.
And they, cowed by his seniority, told him everything. When they were done, he actually decided to take action and report me to the principal. I could tell that I was not liked. He stepped out of the toilet and started for the principal’s office. See as me I did like weyrey, and yanked him back – with care o – into the toilet.
The first thing that came out of my mouth was, “Please, I will do anything you want!”
He looked at me carefully, sizing me up for the filth he probably thought I was, and then said, “I want your tuckshop for the rest of the term.”
The term?! What would I do or eat? I could feel myself start to sob at that point. I had no control over anything anymore. I whispered a ‘Yes’ to him, hoping that I could die at that moment, or that I could just erase the past few days. I just wanted to be me again. However, even though I was distraught over SP wanting my tuckshop, I was kind of glad that it wasn’t SB that would continue to get it. I could see the sourness in his eyes, and I quietly savored that moment.
I was left alone in the bathroom, and I contemplated my life. I didn’t even recognize myself anymore. I had just become a nonentity, a piece of trash to be stepped on, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Go raibh míle maith agat go mór le haghaidh léamh.
Till next session!
Written by Carl