𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐧 - #𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐍𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤

#7 - WHAT IF...?

Regular.

If there was anything on the planet that I hated more than waiting, then, my God, it just had to be that damned eight-letter word.

Ironic and hypocritical, one may be bluntly opinionated, because, despite that, no better word in the entire Oxford dictionary was capable of describing in perfect clarity the life of a girl like Leilani Sopuruchi Ijeh.

Oh, um, if that was not clear enough, that's me.

And well, as a matter of fact, asides from the fact that I consistently, from time to time, feel like I am living in some parallel world somewhere where I have to recite the awful and boring details of my life to some unfortunate listening souls somewhere, bless them, I believe it was fairly safe to conclude that even after about nineteen years of my existence, my life could not possibly get even more 'regular' than it was.

We could skip the boring part where I tell everyone how I am some regular girl in her late teens from a regular family living somewhere in some regular place like Lekki East, simultaneously, a regular student at a regular university in the country, living a regular life, and working part-time as a regular freelancer for some regular company I had never seen.

Yeah, that sort of thing. We could skip that part and go straight to the part of my 'regular life' that perturbed me more than any other.

My looks.

Now, relax okay? Chill, your blood is too hot.

I know what you're probably thinking right now, and hell the fuck no, believe me, the last thing I am going to do is come on here to go all 'Wattpad perfect blonde who thinks she's ugly', neither would I start some long boring list of my 'stunning' physical qualities—something that I could bet my left boob that about ninety percent of you would most likely skip reading anyway,  but I would go ahead to tell you, instead, what I wished I looked like.

For starters, anything, but regular.

I wished to look like an African Queen. Now, don't sleep on me, abeg, just hang on there for a little bit more. I mean it. I have been told that I have a wild imagination, and from time to time, I envision myself as being beautiful enough to turn men to stone.

And of course, without literal snakes on my head — that would be way too extra. But, I mean, it would not have hurt to be the realistic definition of a dark-skinned beauty goddess.

It would not hurt to drip class and glory everywhere that I stepped foot into, with skin that popped with a stunning, absolutely remarkable, and even scarring glow of melanin. One that blinded people with its exotic shine and blinding charcoal glint.

I wanted to have the ability to cause a wave of confusion with hair as thick and full like the mane of a lion, kinky as it should be too, the most stunning afro that anyone could have even imagined could exist.

And with my eyes, hazel and clear, I wanted to look deep into the souls of people who looked at me, before snatching it right out of them.

I also wished I stood with my spine straighter and my head more upright, exuding the confidence that stood out with the royalty of an Egyptian Queen.

I wanted regality to spur out of every single pore of my skin instead of sweat, and I wanted to have an aura that was able to captivate, choke, hell, even kill anyone who had the audacity to stand face to face with such unreal beauty.

See? I wanted to be beauty to die for. Just like Hadiza. But no, Leilani Ijeh was only regular.

That was one of the reasons why I had made it a life mission to make sure that my real life could be as fascinating as the one that I fantasized about in my head. And maybe, I couldn't change my looks. Unfortunately. But I could change my life. I could mold my life into everything that I ever wished it could be. Anyone could.