the world is so boring, nobody wants to dance.

to everyone feeling down about the current events, this is for you.

i used to dance. i used to want to be a dancer. when i was younger my hands and my hips always used to chase the beat, the finial chord, the last crescendo. as i think of those moments in my life, i feel immense joy because i deem them the happiest, the most fulfilling. because i was not aware of anything, only the music, the sweat glistening on my forehead and my rabid beating heart.

now, i’ve lost the art. my body doesn’t move the way i want, i ask myself if it’s a good thing, a righteous thing to want that happiness while the world around me crumbles. even if i do, i check my phone again and my lips instantly sew to a frown; Congo is burning, blood can be seen from space in Sudan, the children in Gaza are starving—to the point that it is irreversible— the women of Tigray are suffering, people in Nigeria are currently being massacred in the hands of islamic extremist terrorist. and everything is just on my screen which makes it feel so dystopian—yet, I just sigh and continue scrolling.

i’m overwhelmed, i’m numb.

i’ve always been politically conscious, being a curious child as well as growing up in Nigeria where the adults grumbles at the bad government aren’t so far away. but it heightened during the genocide on Gaza as i watched little children cry for their parents on camera, who in turn, are sometimes holding the carcasses of their offsprings that were buried in rubble. i remember asking myself the question; “how could all these happen and the world is watching?”

i made my research, i understood the issue, then came the anger. anger at the injustice, the pain, the horror. it wasn’t only Palestine, but all over the world, and around me too. i used to try my best to sign petitions, to repost videos, to watch them to the end hoping that my engagement would bring money, if there was even a way to donate, i would have. it was obvious—despite the historical and political reasons—who was in the wrong and who deserved to be fought for. whenever any horrid news reached my timeline, i reposted, i engaged, i prayed for a better life for these people.

yet, years have passed and my hopeful heart is still left with nothing.

it’s like the world is deteriorating. we wake up with heavy hearts and it sinks even deeper with each scroll, someone is kidnapped today, killed tomorrow, abducted the next. We haven’t finished fighting for one before we’re attacking another. my thumb aches, my throat is sore.

will this ever end? we seem to echo into the void.

when will we ever get the chance to laugh from the deepness of our bellies without having to be reminded that our country is bleeding? when we will be able to relish in joy without knowing that one wrong turn could lead to either us or our families being lost forever? when will i be able to go back to that fulfillment i once had when i let my body go and danced?

i’d expressed on here in my notes that i don’t feel that anger anymore; i don’t even know what to feel. but a post on substack made me realize that one way or the other, these wounds i want to close up will still be forced opened as long as my feet are planted on this wretched earth. even though there is a space in my heart we’re true happiness used to be—it changes nothing. people are dying, and one day, it might happen to my family, or me too.

and i sat with that, for hours.

the world is burning, but that doesn’t mean we should stop seeking the light, for those who think that it’s completely dark. caring is exhausting, hoping is hard, but numbness is not the end. change might not come anytime soon, but bit by bit, our hearts cries would soon get what it wants, even if feels too heavy to bear.

let’s not stop fighting. let’s not stop using our voices. let us stay human and continue to hope.

Because hope, like dance, is something the world can’t take despite it’s harshness, unless we decide to give it away.