I am lonely. I am lonely. I am lonely.

Last night I met Michael at the Shrine. He carried me across his lap for a while. It felt nice until I realised that his body was teeming with perspiration and I couldn't breathe. I told him I was leaving, that was it.

I also dreamt that I visited Kiki at her house. This is funny because Kiki doesn't have a personal space at the moment. The werey even had an inverter lol. Still, it is fun to dream.

I know enough about the Freudian interpretation of dreams to understand that my dreams were borne out of the groanings of my unconscious mind: I am lonely.

I am lonely. I am lonely. I am lonely.

Maybe if I keep saying it I would feel better. Of course, I won’t. But it is better than all the months I have spent living in pretence. I keep telling myself that I’ve got this. I have repeated Goodluck Jonathan’s mantra over and over again. This too shall pass, this too shall pass, this too shall pass.

Like Solange rightly said, “I’ve tried to work it away.” I have two jobs and that hasn't fixed anything. I've also tried to wank it away, but that only made me sadder. If I keep mentioning all the things I have done to dispel loneliness, I may just have to include a link to ‘Cranes in the Sky’.

It’s easier to talk about how I feel in my mind than to write it out. So far, I hate what I have written because it feels like a lame and watered-down version of how I truly feel.

My family members will find my talks about loneliness bizarre and even insulting. “Are we not more than enough for you?” is what I am going to hear. Sometimes I see my family as one big blob. We tend to move about together and sometimes it is hilarious; a group of seven people waddling in one direction.

I blame my parents sometimes for my inability to easily make friends. When I was younger, I tried to sit with people my age at church services in the hopes that I would at least make a friend or two, seeing that they all moved together. But they would force us to sit together; a herald of unity and togetherness. Even I wouldn’t make friends with such an awkward individual.

I love my family members. Although they are good company, they are not my friends. So yes, maybe their presence provides a respite from the ugly feelings that encapsulate me; this is not enough.

Camila Cabello said, “I’m just looking for some real friends.” I think about this song critically right now and I realise that she may be addressing two concepts — fake friends and/or loneliness.

I don’t think I have fake friends. Rather, I need friends my age who live in the same city as I do.

I often quiet down my insane longing by reminding myself that I do not have the finances or freedom to handle friendships. Do I need another friendship where my story and my song is “I have no money”?

I miss all my friends but I miss Michael the most.

In February, as my departure from Lagos drew nigh, I started writing letters to Michael. I also started crying at night.

I’ve been gone for over 4 months and we have tried to make transitioning easy on both ends. We talk every day, we send each other funny tweets, we play iMessage games, and we have a shared playlist. This isn’t still enough for me. I have grown sadder with time. It is like the more coping mechanisms we adopt, the lonelier I get.

I am concerned about his welfare; a lot of sadness and despair can be shrouded under LMFAOOOOOO.

I’m just sad man and that shit hurts. I’d rather have pepper in my eyes than this(at least I can gauge when the fiery pain ends). I don’t know how to write it again. I miss him so much. Sometimes it makes me want to cry and heaven knows I hate tears. I am terribly sad.

Maybe this is just a phase. Maybe this too shall pass away, or not. Either way, I look forward to a peaceful divorce from this feeling.