Spoken Words is a collection of smart and insightful poems by Senami Amosu, a 15-year-old school girl who loves to inspire through her sometimes controversial topics.
By Senami Amosu
I want to be confident. I want to be organized. I want to be fit and eat healthy, be healthy. I want to be nice, kind and loving to all. I want to be a better Christian. I want to not care what other people think of me. I want to be rich, successful and happy . I want a wonderful, stress-free, perfect life.
But I’m not so confident. I have bad and worse days. I tend to be lazy and untidy sometimes. I don’t get enough sleep. I definitely don’t work out or eat healthy. I’m failing math. I can be mean sometimes. I forget to read my bible, or pray. I care too much about other’s opinion of me. I’m not rich or successful yet. I’m stressed out more often than not. I’m trying but I don’t feel like my efforts are enough.
Like everyone else, I struggle. I fail. I stand up. Then fall again. I cry. I laugh. I hurt. Sometimes, I’m simply not okay.
And that’s fine.
Because I believe one day, by God’s grace, I’ll be able to look back on these dark days and smile. My struggles will make my story.
And my story will be worth telling.
You are not alone
“I can’t remember what he looked like…”
“…he grabbed me all of a sudden…”
“He’s family. I thought I could trust him…
“…I only had one drink…”
“My mother doesn’t believe me…”
“What did I do to deserve this?”
“I’m a victim of rape.”
It was a night like any other. It was just another late night at the coffee house. The sky was darkening but my house was only ten minutes away. I thought I’d be fine. One moment I’m walking home , the next I’m being pulled into an alley. I don’t even remember it. I woke up, tired weak and bruised all over. He…or they…probably thought I was dead. It was supposed to be fine. I was wrong. And I’m going to have to live with that for the rest of my life.
My mom died when I was really young and since then I has just been my father and me. I…didn’t even know what he was doing was wrong…I didn’t have anyone else to tell me otherwise. He’d call me to his room at odd hours of the night and…do things to me…I didn’t understand. I was eleven. I had no choice.
I don’t do college parties. I despised alcohol, noise and parties in general. But this was supposed to be the party of the century, according to my friend, I can’t miss it. She begged for two weeks before I finally gave in. It was a frat party. And it was everything I thought it would be…so I wasn’t having much fun. I hadn’t seen my friend since we had arrived.
Tired and bored, I made to leave but somehow got lost. While walking along one of the corridors, a guy walks up to me. I can tell he’s not drunk and I hope for directions but he starts to flirt with me and when I tried to get away, he…dragged me into the nearest room. I remember it all. He left afterwards and I sobbed the entire way home. They never found my violator.
I only has one drink that night. Why me?
My dad died when I was thirteen and my mom remarried two years later. I didn’t really like my step dad but I didn’t have a problem with him. Everything was fine until my mom had to go on a business trip few months later. I got back from school the day she left to find him there. He was supposed to be at work. He brushed it of with an excuse and I left it alone. Few hours later, he knocks on my door and comes in without waiting for a response. I asked him what he wants but he doesn’t reply. He just stares at me for a long moment, before dragging me to his room. I try to protest but he doesn’t let go. He burnt the sheets that night. Crying uncontrollably, I told him that I’d tell my mom. He laughed at me and said she wouldn’t believe me. She didn’t. She yelled at me and claimed I made it up because I didn’t like him. I was torn. She chose his over me. It happened many more times before I could legally leave. Books and articles on these things always tell you to tell someone you can trust, but don’t necessarily say what to do if they don’t believe you.
When I was…sexually assaulted…I was lost and broken. I didn’t know what to do. There was no one to turn to. There was no doubt about it, I was scarred for life. I had planned and keeping myself for marriage, and now I couldn’t. My virginity was my pride. And he took it from me.
Then, I encountered Jesus. My friend had left her bible in my room. I picked it up and something fell out. It was a sermon on God’s love. Intrigued, I read it over and over and over again, even looking up the scriptures there. God sounded amazing, but I found it hard to believe He would love or want someone as broken as me.
In the middle of the night, it seemed to hit just how much God loved me. I was overwhelmed by the love I felt and then I heard these words.
“Daughter, you are loved.”
Those words changed my life. I thought I’d be broken forever but God healed me and delivered me. He helped me forgive my violator and move on with my life. He doesn’t remember my past, so why should I? My future is a life in Him, and it’s a bright future no matter how dark the past was.
God loves you and is with you irrespective of your past or how broken you think you are. Jesus didn’t die for a perfect you, he died for a broken you. And he wants to see you whole again. Come to Him and He will give you rest. God is with you.
You are not alone.
Note from Author
I woke up randomly at four thirty and was inspired to write this. So I picked up my phone and let the words flow. I believe this piece was inspired by God and is a message for a particular person or persons.
Sunday, August 29, 2021
At the end of the story…
I love love. I love romance. It’s not my favorite genre, but I read more romance than I do any other genre. And let’s be honest, there’s romance in almost everything. Romance and action. Romance and thriller. Even romance and horror (how does that work out)?
Anyway, love is a beautiful thing. But times without number, I question the love in books and movies; too clique, too easy, too…unreal – because come what may, the guy always gets the girl at the end of the story. And then they live happily ever after…
I started reading romance when I was eleven. *cough* wattpad *cough*. And like I said, I love romance books, especially good ones. But the thing about romance books and movies is they’re deceptive. They make you think that the guy you like will like you back, that the school’s ‘golden’ boy would have eyes for only you, that your boyfriend would be nice and sweet and do anything for you. They make you think you can be the girl that gets the guy at the end of the story.
But that’s not the case, is it? What a rude awakening. In the real world, your first love may be a toxic player. Your boyfriend may cheat on you with your friend. Your crush might only talk to you in hopes of seeing what’s underneath your clothes.
So life isn’t the fairytale romance books and movies make it out to be. Life is cruel, and people sometimes (most times, actually) have bad intentions. But love is still love. And love does exist. Just not the type sold to us in the books.
*Sighs in disappointment*
Woes of a Nigerian girl
All the people in my life have these different expectations, these different roles that I’m supposed to play. Sometimes I feel like they’re looking for perfection. And it’s frustrating.
As a daughter,
Especially the first daughter, it’s mandatory that I know how to cook and clean. I have to know how to take care of a home, because who will do it for me in my husband’s house? There are those never ending chores. Never ending errands. All those things I have to do. And I’m lazy if I slip up.
As a smart student,
Teachers expect you to go to science class and become a doctor or something. They expect more from you than they do of the other students. It’s almost always, ‘You did well but you can do better.’ Even other students subconsciously have expectations of you. ‘Her note will be complete.’ ‘She probably did well in the homework.’ ‘She probably knows the answer.’
As a girl,
I need to cover up. ‘You can’t wear that, it’s too snug.’ I have to constantly worry about how my actions and inactions will be perceived. I don’t want to be seen as desperate or ‘trying too hard.’ I have to deal with boys who can’t accept NO. Who will tell me I’m playing hard to get, doing shakara, just because I’m not interested. In and boy-girl situation, it’s always about what I did wrong and what I could have done. The boy can’t be wrong, right?
As a teenager,
I have to make all these important decisions. I have to fend of negative peer pressure. I have to do well in school and make good moral decisions ‘so I don’t destroy my future.’ Because everyone is expecting me to be someone great. Everyone around me thinks I have ‘great potential.’ It must not go to waste.
And the worst part? Because I manage to put myself together, to meet everyone’s expectations as much as I possibly can. I’m suddenly perfect. And everyone seems to expect that of me. To carry all these responsibilities and achieve efficiently. And if I don’t, I’m slipping up. If I get tired, I’m not doing enough. I’m being lazy.
Because I’m smart and I’m strong and surely, I can do anything. Right?
But it never ends, does it?