- I steal meat from my own pot of soup. My mother ingrained it in me to always eat with one meat. She’d even take one meat and cut into two for two of us. She stopped this habit when I got into uni. Now, I see it as a great sin against humanity to eat with more than a piece of meat. So, rather than have two pieces on my food, I will take one. Then tiptoe to my own kitchen like a thief and steal one under a very guilty conscience. If I decide to wash plate, I will put my hands and steal another one. If the temptation arises again just as I’m done washing plates, I will take a step towards the pot again. Suddenly, I will feel my mother turning in her grave. I will feel angel Gabriel deleting my name from the book of life, then I will do a u turn and repent.
- I hate to call. This is a post traumatic disorder for me. I wasn’t always like this. Every call sets me into panic mode. I’m like “who died again?”. Since I received so many bad news via calls over time, I became averse to talking on phone. I suffered a chronic withdrawal from everything and everyone and fed on my silence.
- When I make up my mind about a matter, that case is closed. It takes only God to change my mind. The rigidity of my heart scares even me. If I do not like something or someone, there’s no chance on earth that I ever will. If I get fed up with a situation, I’m walking out of it.
It’s just that I have zero tolerance for shits so if something is not going my way, I get easily fed up.
- I am too attached to myself, my books and my space so much that I don’t care if there’s no one around me.
- I am kind of lazy. I’d rather eat coco pops than cook a great meal.
- I hate to share the things that matter to me. Those things that matter to me in life so much are chocolates, Tito yoghurt, roasted corn and plantain chips. I hide in my office to eat these things so that I will not give anybody😁🙈
Add yours please.