This is what the voice said

Oreoluwanimi Ade
2 min readMay 11, 2022


Lately, words have failed me, completely. I have had to drag my pen across every line on my paper to describe how the pang in my chest is growing like a tumour, and unfortunately, my tear-stained cushion doesn't feel like home.

I’ve had recurring terrible nightmares. The type that morphs as real and you can intensely feel every anger, anxiety and uncertainty as you did the first time. My body jerks at the thought of relieving the very scene that broke my innocence to pieces. My feet, struggling to behold the presence of people I entrusted myself in and there I lay, struggling to move, weeping intensely like the time I heard granny gave up. It's a dream, yet, I’m still scared

A few years later and you still cower from real intimacy. You have co-workers, acquaintances, people who check in to ensure you're not 6 feet and adore you but you will run from love. You will remain short of authentic connections and it will hurt but you will move on like you consistently do. You will always move on, keeping the emotional baggage light enough that one day, you’ll wake up and reminisce of the moments you had felt loved, yearn for a drop of that feeling but you’ll realize you're alone. It’s just you. You’re still unloved

You would realize that when you were younger, you played hide and go seek with your life. You ran so fast your shoes pounded heavily on the ground causing mud to slash up your legs before they counted to ten, squeeze yourself into the darkest and smallest of places and wait to be found. You enjoyed the thrill of hiding so much that you got good at the game. You used to mutter a self-composed song in your head:

“La la laa la la you would never find me”

You found yourself hiding every day, covering your eyes to the beauty created for you to experience and blocking your ears to the words said to get you out of your den.

There you lay in your den, covered by a thick layer of sweat with the corners of your eye dimmed by a blur. You hid too well they forgot you existed. You hid to never be seen

What if your subconscious fear of everything in existence is causing you to retreat from the beauty of life?

-Credit to the abominable misleading voice that existed in my head for these past weeks, not me.



Oreoluwanimi Ade

Bare with me, I'm a private poet with my catalogue, a by-product of solitude and heightened individuality; each story become a testament to my singular journey