Episode 4: Diary Of A Teenage Girl

Episode 4: Diary Of A Teenage Girl


Here I am dressed in black, standing beside the person that means the world to me at the moment. My mother. I look around at the people present, crying like it is their father that died. Well he was a man of impact, and he will be greatly missed, so they are allowed to cry.

I remember him telling me ‘‘Mo, you are not my only child. Biologically yes you are but then, I have other children’’.

He would always smile whenever he made that statement. Now I know his other children and I am proud to say this man, my very own biological father not that I have another father somewhere, touched lives when he was alive. I looked at the casket for a long time. I begin to think, how I will miss the person it in, his words of encouragement, his laughter, our catch up moments, his hugs and kisses, his voice, his instructions, his smile. He himself.

In my head, I’m like ‘‘Dad, get up! You still have so much to accomplish and lives to impact. We still have to travel the world together. You promised to walk down the aisle with me. Don’t worry I will give birth to the three set of twins you want, you know you said you will back them for me, it will take a while but it will happen eventually. Please dad, get up for the sake of your dying wife…’’I am brought back to reality by the voice of my mother. ‘‘Mo, it is time’’.

I look around one more time, bend to pack the sand I will pour on my father’s grave and made up my mind to be the best child he has. I pour the sand and walk away wiping the tears I did not know was flowing like a river.

Once the burial ceremony was over, we drive silently back home. All through the journey, all I can think about is my mother, how her days are numbered and how she is in so much pain. I remember the doctor telling me before I left the hospital that she is no longer responding to chemo. My heart is in so much pain right now and I am bold enough to say I hate my life!

Now at home, I look at my mother and notice how slowly the so called cancer is eating her up. Her once full black silk hair is nowhere to be found. Her once radiant yellow skin is wrinkled. Her only struggling dimple, gone. Her hazel eyes that had so much joy in it reflects nothing but pain and sadness. She looks like a skeleton, a beautiful one.

‘‘Mum, you have to promise me you won’t leave like he did’’ I said with fear in my eyes. She hugged me, kissed my forehead and said ‘‘my darling Mo, I can’t promise anything right now because I do not want to fail you. I am tired of fighting…..’’

I didn’t even wait for her to finish, I flair up ‘‘you can’t be tired. What will happen to me?’’ I try to control myself by reducing my pitch ‘‘don’t I mean anything to you?’’ I knew the moment I asked that question, I had passed my boundary, but I did not care. I continued talking ‘‘do you even love me? Oh! Oh!! Oh!!! I get it, now that dad has gone you feel I’m the least person you want to be with. I don’t care anymore, you can go ahead and join him…..’’.

Before I could make my finish statement, I feel my mother’s hard palm hit my face really hard. ‘‘How dare you MO?’’ was all she could say. She looked at me and I saw it in her eyes that she did not regret hitting me this time.

I knew I had crossed the line but I never expected her to hit me. We look at each other, eye ball to eye ball and just like my normal nature, I hurt those that hurt me. This very moment, she hurt me and I want to hurt her back. I did not think of her pain and her loss because I am also in pain and I lost my dad. We are even. I raise my one eye brow, made a disgusting face and said ‘‘I hate you!’’ I threw the flower vase on the floor as I ran to my room.


Boluwatife Ayinde
Boluwatife is an Editorial Assistant at Kamdora. Ever since she discovered her passion for writing at a young age, she has developed her skill by writing for renowned websites. She recently developed a passion for fashion and has since been using her talent wisely! Tife blogs about her personal style and offers guides to making life better for the average Nigerian girl!

You May Also Like

Leave a Reply