Letter 8 of 19

Dear 2019,

In the Letters to 2018 series I shared with her how I grew up watching WWE. I did this while sharing how I navigated the choke slams of death on her timeline. Your timeline , on the other hand, hasn't been short of "You can't see me" moments. Before you get excited, I'm not talking about the gift Sho Madjozi blessed us with.

Your John Cena moments came in the form of "we regret to inform you" emails. No, I didn't get those for the first time in my life this year. Do I think I'm seeing them for  the last time? No. The ones I received on your timeline just slapped a bit differently. If you've ever been in this taxi you'll know exactly what I mean.

I hopped into my latest John Cena taxi yesterday. It feels like being in one of those Cape Town taxis on the Belville route. Those have the capacity to be packed so much that passengers feel like sardines. I know I'm inside one of them because they always phrase these emails to make you aware that there were many of you. I'm chilling inside here and I'm wondering why I told myself the typical "you've got nothing to lose" lie before I got myself into this.

The truth is that you do lose something after a "we regret to inform you" slap. Maybe I'm just speaking for myself but disappointment does snatch at your inner peace. At times it feels like it's the taxi marshal who wants you to sit on a laptop (added seat normally in the form of a beer crate) and expects you to pay the same fare as the passenger who got the best seat.

I'm sitting inside this taxi with so many conflicting  emotions. I keep telling myself that it's okay to feel disappointed and sad. Stuff toxicity and emotional sabotage. That's the easy thing to feel right now. The hard thing to feel, at this moment, is gratitude and acceptance. What's keeping me sane is my inner being acting like an imaginary safety belt. I say imaginary because the only time I've ever had to wear a safety belt in a taxi was when we were approaching Traffic Officers and the driver was avoiding a fine.

My inner being keeps reminding me how behind every "congratulations" there's a stack of "we regret to inform you" pile that goes unacknowledged. It's anchoring me on thoughts that my denial of a comfortable seat is possibly a long awaited approval for the next person who has been warming up laptops.  I also can't shake off the feeling that I'll definitely feed myself the "you've got nothing to lose" tablet again. Pretty soon. I just need to get off this taxi, sort out the wrinkles on my ego and head straight to the drawing board.

2019, do you want to know what my ultimate fantasy reaction to situations like these ones is?

Well, in my fantasies my ideal self aspires to have a reaction like Miss Nigeria at the Miss World pageant. I hope to jump like my name was called out, get excited like the winner that I am and continue to believe in the validity of my dreams...