By the time Adaobi opened her eyes, she was already exhausted.
I woke up angry again, angry that I hadn't died in my sleep, angry that the ache in my back from the cheap mattress had beaten the ache in my chest to the finish line, angry that I could hear my neighbor's baby crying through the paper thin wall, a sound that reminded me- life goes on whether or not you want it to. My phone was dead. Again. I hadn't charged it because NEPA had taken light yesterday evening and never brought it back, that was the thing about Lagos: it didn't care, didn't care if you were tired, broke, or drowning. It didn't care if your dreams were dying like houseplants without sunlight, the city just kept moving like a river that didn't notice the body floating in it.
I got up slowly, dragging myself like my body weighed more than it should, my knees cracked, my soul sighed, I was twenty-eight, but some mornings I felt sixty, I shuffled to the bathroom, splashed water on my face, and looked in the mirror. God.
Eyes like potholes. Lips cracked. Skin dull, I used to be beautiful- or at least I thought I was, now I just looked.....used, like life had chewed me and spat me out on the side of the road. I had an interview today. Another one, another performance, another round of pretending I wasn't desperate. I'd memorized my lines: "I'm a fast learner". "I'm passionate about growth". "I'm ready for the next challenge". Lies, mostly. What I was good at was not dying.
I ironed my shirt with a pressing iron that sparked if I tilted it wrong, it burned me twice, but I didn't flinch, pain is relative when your whole life feels like punishment, I only had one clean pair of trousers, I wore them like they were my last armor.
No breakfast, no bread, no milk, just leftover garri and a tin of milo I was saving for when the sadness got too loud, I tied my scarf, sprayed perfume into the air and walked into it like that could change anything.
Outside, the sun had risen like it always did- bright, loud, and oblivious, my slippers slapped the ground as I walked down the street, passing shops still shuttered, danfo conductors shouting at nothing, children chasing tires, my mind kept repeating a single line: "You're going to fail again".
But I kept waking, because what else could I do?