Adedolapo Olisa
4 min readAug 16, 2020

Permission Granted: make no sense.

I don’t want to die. I really don’t want to kill myself but I don’t want to be alive right now. Because I am not happy and I am most definitely not sad. Everything has fallen apart but things are falling right into place.

A part of me wishes a solitary phrase in that was a joke but it’s true. All true. Except the “all” is just as important as the “true.” If you take out any part of the see-saw, you neither have a see or a saw. That is the reality of this season.

Personally, Covid is just another obstacle in the journey to freedom. I’ve been on it for 10 years and counting. Actually 11 years. The bigger the milestones, the bigger the obstacles but I could never have seen this one coming. It’s like everyone gets to feel my pain even as I feel a worse version of it.

I want a green card. I want to shuffle Nigeria and US freely. Intermittently. Interchangeably but the powers that be have refused to make this journey smooth.

Green card aside. This moment. This right now. I want to enter into it and speak life to the dry dead bones in it.

I am sitting in my bed facing the window and begging nature for fresh cold air but all I get is no breeze, no wind and definitely not cold air. Then it hit me, I am in the middle of California summer and I didn’t even realize it. Such has been the story of this year.

It’s not that I don’t Know it’s August. It’s that my body and my mind have lost track of time. There is a disconnect between the weather and the seasons.

For instance, I didn’t realize that one of the most guaranteed signs of summer for me is the bikini pictures that litter social media. The scrolling through Instagram and wishing I could swap out the guy from that beautifully looking moment and entourage of picture perfect beach days. By swap I mean replace him with me.

Today, this summer. There are no bikini pictures. Only the few daring beach photos. I can’t tell if the beach is closed or most of us have gained so much weight that bikinis and beaches are not appropriate. It must be the social distancing but the beach is open enough for people to be there ? Wait, if the beach is open then it must be summer! What kind of summer is this ?

So yeah, back in my room. I am longing for the cold breeze of winter with the heat of the summer. I recognize that doesn’t even make any sense but isn’t that the whole point ? We are living in a time when everything classified as sense is no longer common. Even truth is no longer fixed. It’s now relative. Good? Most definitely going through a make over.

Jealousy has driven me so for so long. The desire to have what other people flaunt. The best of everything. The best woman, the best job, the best family, the best business, heck even the best God. I want everything I am associated with to be the best. I want to create the jealousy that others at the “top” make me feel.

So now I see why life feels tasteless. Everything about best is now debunked. All the people that had lives I envied are cooped up like me trying to make the best lemonade with sour cream.

In an instant, the engines of life has changed. It makes me wonder what life was like when gold was the standard. But before gold there was barter. Skills, capabilities and what you make were value worth exchanging for. The money came along and first it was backed by gold but now, there is no facade about the reality.

We live for a paper that an almighty president can just print more of. All our existence is predicated on getting more of said paper. Whether I like it or not, whether I see it directly or indirectly. Worth is measured in the digits that represent the volume of value my life has created. The value determined by people at the top. People we choose to decide for us why and what we live for and the scale for measuring it thus.

I am sick of it.

It’s hot and it’s summer and I hate everything this world stands for yet I am in it and stuck in it and the more I try to make sense of it the more load of crap filters through my fingers. To be fair, I am grateful that the crap is nice and hot. It’s not stale, it’s new every morning. I am grateful.

If you got this far and are waiting for the point. There is none.

This has been an exercise in fearlessly articulating the emotions of a moment. The practice of which might lead to better use later but for now. It’s just good to be able to feel the jambalaya of emotions and be able to pen them.

Give yourself permission to not have it all figured out.

I just did and it feels good.

Adedolapo Olisa

I’m an aspiring story teller that is learning to let stories tell their own morals. You’ll find me where Faith-Tech-Art meet.