Another past midnight where we have argued until almost dawn. These days we don’t count on the sun to fix our quarrels anymore, None of Us is always Wrong. In this fighting field of loveNkem, you are the chaos at my feet. You are the thing I want most to put back together, also the thing that is killing me. The problem?I think of you at 8:00 AM.You think of me at almost midnight. Bored or lonely,I’m the one you heart frequents. And yes, yes you love me.But only on the weekends.

It is not that you want me.It is that you like the way I want you and you don’t want that feeling to go to someone else.

Next time; before you decide it is love,First ask yourself:Am I safe here? Is there room for growth?When I say no; does he listen?

My love says I am not a fool but I will play dumb for you. He tells me sweet nothings and calls only on the weekends. On Mondays I find our love in a bottle. On Tuesdays it clouds a Joint. He texts to confirm plans. Tells me to shave downstairs for next time. And I listen. Because I am young. Naïve. A little bit desperate and kind of hungry. There is this way he almost loves me. It's never enough but I always stay.

It is always the friend with the most worrisome parents whose child has tried the strangest drug. In you twenties all you meet are dreamers and people who party like their Fridays are running out. Who love like their hearts are bleeding. If you fall, be prepared to maybe catch yourself. For everything is fast here; even love.

All first meetings go like this:Be open.Be honest.What is it you do when I am not around?Where is it you come from?Don’t dance around questions.Tell me,What did the last one look like?