Authors Note: Hey there, I’m attempting to live my best life and it’s not easy. Whew! Enjoy this story.
They will tell you a lot of things about me. Don’t believe them .It’s all lies. They said I never finish anything emphasis on anything. My aunt once told me even if I was dying I wouldn’t finish. Look at that ! If you ask why they say all these things about me. They will come up with all this cock and bull stories of how I never finished school or how I never got round to marrying or how I let the family down and didn’t continue a legacy.
They won’t tell you the many reasons why. It was those subjects my father forced me to study. It was those courses that drove me insane and into disgrace. I hated the numbers. I hated how they looked, how they felt. I hated how they twisted and slinked away from my brain and fingers. I hated that I had to sweat before sheets of nonsense they called examination. I hated that I had to remember all of those definitions and rules and formulas. I couldn’t do it. I had to leave. I wanted to paint. I wanted my hands off pens and onto brushes to create beautiful things, to make people gasp, smile, think, laugh. I wanted to be, Freedom. So on the 7th day of my 4th semester I walked out of my class, my lecturer starring at my back and never came back. I had applied and been accepted on partial scholarship as a mentee to one of our nation’s finest painters. My angry father begrudgingly paid the rest of the fees not because he wanted to but because people like to talk. Especially those neighbours of ours. I will tell you what happened later on.
Another thing they will tell you is that I never finished is the marrying thing. These people I call family members! They just couldn’t seem to mind their own business. “Elorm ,where is your girlfriend? Who is the young lady who came to visit?” Oh I did get close though. They pushed me to the altar, to almost make a meaningless vow, except I came to my senses in time. I like tragic girls. I like the whole rich-dada ba-meets -poor-fiery-girl-telenovela kind of romance. Rough palms, blacker than black skin, quiet, thoughtful, wisdom-filled, Pure fire. That was the kind of girls my parents hated. They said She reminded them of things they didn’t want to remember. Really bad things they didn’t want to say. They said I was like a fisherman who trapped gold diggers instead of gold fishes. Can you believe this people? And that was the kind of girl I was dating. I was still working up the courage to tell her about that my problem. Then it happened, the girl they approved of came along. A girl I had offered to drive home because her brother, my friend, was having problems with his car. I shouldn’t have. I know but it was late and she didn’t want her father to find out. I am a gentleman. A fine one at that. The rest you already know. They met her when she spent the night. They pressured me. I left her at the altar. “One of Ghana’s finest artists leaves bride at altar”. They won’t tell you the real reason they wanted me to marry this girl. They won’t tell you that her father was a minister and that minister money was good money and boost in reputation. I will tell you why I didn’t marry her 1. I didn’t love her 2. The problem I had. I couldn’t farm that particular day. I was a krawa .I couldn’t give her physical warmth. Just emotional warmth. And you know how people act when children never came. They would come and destroy her. So in other words I saved her, telenovela romance style by leaving her at the altar. You see, I am a gentleman.
The other thing they will tell you will be screamed by my mother. Never mind that I had succeeded with my painting . That I was an African sensation. A Ghanaian painting icon. My father didn’t see that. He closed his eyes to the fact that I had rebelled and succeeded. And closed his ears when I said I didn’t want to work in the company. To him I would never be truly successful until I took over his legacy. We argued. We fought. He wanted to clip my wings, cut my throat, pluck my feathers and dump me in badly cooked lightsoup. Well guess what? I did something unintentionally massive. As he clenched at his chest and gasped for breath I stared and smiled then I called for help. I started a dark legacy of my own. They will tell you that I killed my father. It’s true what they say.