Foundations - by That Dark Writer

This is a little backstory. You might have wondered why I turned out the way I did—why I seem so dark. And even if you haven’t, I’m going to tell you anyway. I’m calling this piece Foundations because there are certain events—no matter how small—that shape who we become. They serve as the groundwork for the structure that is us. When these events happen, they alter the way you see the world. For me, they built a lens that filters everything into black or white. No grey. I mean, come on—you can’t have both. You may think I’m wrong, but this is my opinion, and it won’t change. Just like yours probably wouldn’t if you’d lived through what I have. At some point in my little life, I was sexually harassed. Don’t “aww” or pity me. You should be used to it already. Ninety percent of Nigerian girls have experienced it. We may deny it all we want, but it happens. I’ve come to terms with it. It’s nothing special. I don’t remember much of it, but it happened regardless. Growing up, I had both parents. They’re still alive—but that’s not the point. They were both working-class, doing what they could to provide a better life for their children. I mean, who wouldn’t want that? But one of my parents was almost always absent. Not completely, but enough to leave a gap. My mother was more present, but only in fragments—mornings, late nights, and weekends. Sometimes, by the time she got home, I’d already be asleep. I don’t blame her. She had to balance work, kids, and a husband who lived states away. Thank God I had older siblings. You would think they were a power couple, but years down the line, they’re constantly at each other’s throats and are now talking about separation. And honestly? That’s normal. There’s no point staying together if it only breeds unhappiness. Eventually, we relocated to a remote place I had never even heard of. My mom transitioned from being a cartographer to selling food at my school. But hey—free food. Then my dad lost his job, and everything spiraled. This may not sound like a big deal, but when you go from being the first to pay school fees to owing for two whole terms, it is a big deal. When you go from eating more than three times a day to struggling to get two meals, it becomes overwhelming. At this point, reality starts to hit. You begin to figure out who your friends are—and who they never really were. You might not have had any to begin with, but you just didn’t know yet. We don’t talk about it much, but politics starts as children. Your beauty, your family’s income, and the clothes you wear determine your rank among peers. That’s the sad truth. You don’t realize how expensive it is to be poor until you are actually poor. Every penny counts. Your mind is constantly occupied with money—how to get it, how to save it, how to stretch it. You don’t own anything, and you have no generational wealth to fall back on. If you slack, you stay poor—sometimes for life. At some point, we’ve all wished we were Nepo babies. Being handed everything from birth must feel like bliss. It doesn’t cost much to be rich—if you’re already rich. But not everyone gets lucky. People start turning their backs on you. And those who meet you in your lowest moments look down on you. How many of them can you really explain things to? Who has the time or energy? Poor people are too busy trying to survive. Trivial things like friends don’t make the priority list anymore. Of course, there may be one or two who stick by you. But even friendship has limits. Loyalty stretches only so far before it snaps. All these things have taught me that poverty makes your vision clearer. You stop sugarcoating life. You accept things for what they are. You move on. You realize no one sees you, no one truly hears you, and no one cares. You get used to pain. You stop dwelling on it. You become immune to disappointment because you’ve experienced it so many times you’ve lost count. Life seems easier when you have a goal—tch, as if it’s that easy to achieve one. Still, at the end of the day, my foundations have shaped the way I see the world. Black and white. You are either good or bad. You can’t be both. To protect yourself, you learn to expect the worst in every situation. That way, when the worst actually happens, you’re not broken by it. You saw it coming. You were ready. You may disagree. That’s okay. But this is the path I’ve chosen. And it’s what’s best for me.

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