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Jelani Chanel Adisa
My French tip aclryic nails tapped away at the black keyboard keys upon my silver MacBook Air. My eyes quickly shot to corner of the screen.
Okay, 9:53.
Rolling my eyes in frustration, I focused back on the discussion board I desperately need to have turned in by 11:59.
Since Covid, everything with school has been online. Which allows me the extra time to stay in the bed, but also the capacity to be extra comfortable.
My procrastination thrives off of comfortability.
"My grandmother and I's relationship was the closest relationship I've yet to encounter. Jamila Gem Adisa, blessed me with the name Jelani- meaning mighty in Nigeria. My grandmother spoke strength and power over me not only by naming me, but by speaking affirmations and being a representation as well. She never failed to let me know in her native tongue that I am strong; I am mighty." I mumbled the words low and quick as I skimmed over the discussion response. Feeling pleased with what I've written so far, my fingers brushed over the cool keys as I thought of what should come next to finish the post off. "Her passing caused me to lose that sense of strength for a while, allowing me to realize how much of a confidence boost her presence alone would supply with me. Close relationships can either build a person up or break them down, depending on the energy put into the relationship."
Before clicking submit post, I reviewed any grammar mistakes, then quickly sent in the post before I'd get penalized for being late. I forcefully threw my body back, allowing the plush pillows that clad my queen sized bed to catch me. My grandmothers passing often sent me into a funk off of one thought. Seems like I'm always ignoring the lump that forms in my throat, or the burning of my eyes as tears pool. I'm either really convincing, or few people care to notice the pain hidden between the strained rises in my cheeks. Trying to smile and nod while spewing fake "I'm okay's", knowing the joy seen on my lips doesn't even stand a chance of meeting my eyes.
I trap myself in fake facades.
It never ends.
Gently closing my laptop, a sigh of relief escaped my lips as my mind wandered from school.
Psychology was my last class of the day, and thankfully we don't meet on Zoom until tomorrow.
Faint knocks sounded on the white colored wood of my bedroom door seconds before Seyora's head peeked through the tiny gap she made, before she let herself in.
"Hello honey bunny." Seyora's soft voice spoke as her small yet statuesque frame made its way to my bedside.
"Hi." My words came out barely auditable, and grumbled. Normally there would be more enthusiasm when greeting my roommate, but I did not feel the mood to give a proper response or social. My eyes parted slowly as I felt the bed shift, seeing Sey sitting at the edge of the bed with my black furry knotted pillow in her lap. "Where you goin?" Taking in her appearance, my girl looked fly as always. She sported a brown washed two piece from Skims, her jumbo bohemian knotless braids pulled into a cute bun secured with an ivory scrunchy and her colorful canvas crossbody laid wrapped around her body.
