Blog Festival | Short Days, Long Nights | by Jerry Chi.

2.25am. I wake up to a strong feeling…..not fear, not anxiety, but a deep-seated loneliness I can’t explain. This isn’t just about waking up alone with just pillows and a blanket for company, without any fair bosom to lean into and forget the world. This is not a passing feeling that can be cured by a 3am call, no, this one hangs over me like a dark cloak.


I scroll through my contact list, and drop a few Whatsapp messages on the ones I think I care about. None of the strokes turn blue….not like I had much faith in getting a response anyway. Half the world is asleep, and the other half could care less. There is the theory of being awake in someone else’s dream when you can’t sleep, but if I have been the subject of anyone’s nightly thoughts, I’d have known by now.


Mumford & Sons, Tracy Chapman, Sam Smith, Coldplay, Bez, John Mayer… always provides an escape route, but not tonight. I have always boasted about full battery being bae in lieu of cute texts, but the darkness cuts through my headset and into my head. No form of defence mechanism will suffice in these hours; no arms to hug my cold soul, it’s pretty much obvious.


Maybe I am paying for those times when someone needed a listening ear, or just a lousy reply to turn their day around, and instead I scrolled past them on the contacts grid. I know, for all my artistry, I have not exactly been a great person this year…..but maybe that’s because I have been focused on fixing my own boat and fending off Life’s unfriendly waters therefrom, rather than stretch my hands or out rightly dive into the seas to help those who couldn’t be bothered about the risk of my drowning. I also realize that we aren’t all cut out for that Hollywood Movie or Romance Novel kind of love, and I’m fine with that, but that’s by the way.


4.12am. I clutch my Nokia phone (we all have that faithful housewive who sticks it out) and stare at my Phonebook, toying with the idea of making a call or two. Ugochi? She hates those, and I’ll get a verbal chastising later in the day. Kemi? Her fiance could be close by. Ruth? Nah, she’d be too excited to pick, we haven’t spoken in years. Laura? Her husband’s arms are warm enough….not like she wants to “hear from that douchebag anyway”. Vivian has given up on me after seeing her calls ignored again & again, and I haven’t earned the right to interrupt Lola’s sleep. The night has it in for me, and I am tempted to ask if I am not loved enough by the Lord to get some of that sleep He is credited with giving.


I hear the blaring of car horns out on the road. It’s still about two hours away, but Dawn couldn’t arrive sooner. I can’t wait to drop one worry for another, and for this cloak to find its way off me, at least for another sixteen hours.

Jerry Chiemeke is a law graduate, freelance writer and amateur photographer who lives in Lagos. A foodie and sports enthusiast, Jerry’s works have been featured on The Kalahari Review and Brittlepaper. You can catch up on his thoughts at

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  1. And Jerry too! Am I the only one loving this blogfest something? Adopted Yoruba demons suffer loneliness more?I just like how you put words together and tell things that is hard for the mind to describe.beautiful.

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