Xubi's Diaries

I came her July 2016 to pour out my heart on what I was going through. Today the same July of 2020, I am here to talk about the same thing. Actually, I have been feeling a little sad for a while, one of two things is also presently weighing me down presently but the major one is the one of July 2016. I became that girl. That girl that waits for a particular person yo call, that girl that keeps nurturing this hope that he will call and says: baby, forgive me, I have been such an idiot, that girl that always wants to give him a call whenever she is happy about Something, that girls that light up when she sees his call, that girl whose whole life revolves around a particular person. I wrote July 2016 that I didn't know how to move on, I still don't. I started think i ng about the guys that I should have given a chance, but I told them point blank I was waiting for the other guy. Very silly of me, I know. But when I look at them, I always compare them to him, and they always c

as Yoruba's , you would have heard, not one, not two, not three times that do not marry an Igbo person most especially if you are a female. i have heard it. a countless number of times. i didn't take t serious nor take it to heart. But as i grew older, I started taking it seriously. I have met Igbo guys that i liked, we just fooled around , it was nothing serious because i was everly conscious of the no marrying of Igbo thingy. 2019 was the year i understood the reason why. I am not a racist, i like everyone equally but..... there are some buts. Most especially, Igbo peoples that grew up in their states of origin, now those ones are the most difficult. Coming back to University of Ibadan for my MPil programne, i insisted that i nwanted to stay in the hostel, because my laboratory work will take a maximum of 4 months and i can always do the rest from home. Plus what if i get a job and i had to move, the hostel as the best bet. I paid for a 2 man room and i was paired with