Well of Tears.

Adedolapo Olisa
2 min readMar 4, 2023


This time, no big words. Let me see how I fare.

Journal entry 23973:

On Monday, I walked away from love.

I did not have a plan or a valid reason.

It felt like dejavu.

I’ve had credit card debt for 2 years. My plans all failed and I blamed God.

This week, on Wednesday. I paid them all.

The delight of such a big weight off my shoulders did not cover the loss.

She love(d) me.

I just left because it felt right to.

It felt right to because I am scared to be loved. I am scared to stay in and be desired. To stay in and be seen. To stay in and be seen as a fraud, broke, day dreamer but also as a caring, responsible, handsome man.

One weight falls off like meat on a grande ole rib. Another replaces it.

The weight that I thought I cast off, only proved that she held back weight that previously came to swallow me.

There is a depth to love. It’s the testosterone to keep working out. It’s the endorphins that rewards you. It’s the chemical and the nerves that speak soft like God — one more time.

God doesn’t come like man anymore. But he still comes through women. He comes in encouraging words. Even in heated painful loss.

He speaks, He drives, He orchestrates. He is the destination and the referee. He is the boulder and the water.

I’m still learning all that.

When I look at a beautiful view. I see pristine. I see what I haven’t Seen before.

Today, I know, what I have seen make up what I now see. The unique in beauty stacks on top of the familiar.

I can’t shake it.

This thirst for beautiful. This thirst for impact. For next.

Today, again, I see the damaged area in me. It didn’t heal.

The sun came to tan it and I hid it. I kept it tender. Now it is the blemish that I obsess over.

This one time, I don’t Want to reveal specifics. I just want to release emotions.

I just need to vent out loud, let out a scream with silence.

She didn’t do wrong. It’s who she isn’t. It’s who I am. It’s who I see.

Love knocked on my door, and I answered her naked.

Love stayed at my door, and I pissed on her.

Love cleaned up after me, and I ran.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash



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.