Have you ever been told ‘take a chill pill’ before? Or heard it?
No, it’s not a drug. It’s not an injection either. And no. I don’t know if it’s another name for a kind of painkiller.
But here’s what I’m sure of: it cures cases of anxiety, cools temper, enables easier thought process and ultimately gives you better, healthier life!
We all need to chill. The way we carry problems on our head sometimes- not in our hearts, on our heads, because you could see the neck bent at an angle. There is no one without problems, but there are people who smile through theirs; they have the pill.
And man, do the problems come like an avalanche sometimes. Oh boy, they will come like they have postal address- your address. But God won’t give you more than you can handle, and he’s ever true to his word.
Smile through it. Cry if you must, if you feel like. Just don’t be stoic because your mascara can or must not smear, or your ego can not break once in a while. Who knows who’s drawing inspiration from the way you can stay together, or the way you can feel free to cry, even in the hardest of times.
I would say ‘life is too short to dwell on all the problems I have faced or am yet to face’, but my mum has warned me not to say anything using the ‘life to short’ phrase: she thinks it brings bad omen. And who am I to argue?
But even then, when she starts to read too much meaning into something that doesn’t require it. I tell her to take the pill too and run away before she gives me one abara that will change my complexion.
Abara: a hot slap on the back that Nigerian mothers are ever willing to bestow on their errant or not so errant children. They do it automatically.