I hate yellow and rules.

We are the smiles we give, not the song we sing or the hate we build in our hearts for another mankind. I am tired of the family of things, the religion and gender of things, that I should belong to a group or have some sense of belonging.

When I wear yellow, it’s like a reflection of the inside, especially of the wearer, telling people how cheerful and happy, perhaps loving he/she can be. That’s a lie though, bright is evil, and so is dark.

I watch my mother scream and nag at me for disobeying a rule she so long protected, rules are regulations, laws or maybe guidelines. A regulating principle, something that keeps you in order.

I laughed louder, in my mind, of course, I dare not do that in her presence, it will be highly disrespectful. She reminded me of how stubborn I am, that it’s in this act that I allowed someone steal the outside window, insisting that if I had locked the window, it wouldn’t have been stolen, the only crime I committed was allowing the breeze come in, I was naked and fast asleep, the thieves perhaps would have peeped my naked body, but no, she is pained about a glass window.

Funny right? But it wasn’t funny when she poured her anger on me like the last finishing of a buttered cake. she was wearing a yellow shirt and a black hair tie, and she made me understand one thing, rules are stupid, the maker of the rule is even more stupid. What we don’t know is everything changes, people, love, hate and even the world will eventually change to where rules will no longer be needed.

People should be trusted based on positive duties that have been carried out, love given, wise choices during hard times, and words of assurance offered during meltdowns. Trust is a hard word I know, but we can’t neglect the fact that beyond love, we want to trust a person. I also believe that people have a reason for their behaviours, the trouser I wore to the office is because my skirts are all soaked and dirty from the previous rains, which she certainly knows of.

She insisted I follow rules, rules she made, rules the church and religion made her make. She knows for sure, that the rules did not work for my cousin who got pregnant, even though she so much followed the rules.

I understand my mother’s plight, why she so wants us to follow these rules, it simply gives the assurance that she could be addressed, more than before, as a rare deaconess who tamed her household.

Among the numerous things she said, she talked about how she, with pain, had laid down rules for her staff, and me being her daughter should be the first to follow the rules, why break them she emphatically asked.

Rules are from hell, Rules are in the mediocre of things.

I am not saying that you overly reject rules, am insisting that you object to some, especially the ones that may cost you your inner peace, after all, what we have at the end of the day is our smiles, deep smiles that come from the memories of things, or moment spent with loved ones when I say loved ones I mean books, a flower, a dog or maybe stones or oneself.

I disobeyed my mother, I felt so bad because I have been, just like you raised to follow rules, to strictly adhere to them, causing me great grief in the process, aren’t we all vulnerable to the ones we love? I have exceptions to some rules, the trousers I am wearing now are part of a rule I have broken, the one she is so angry about.

Rules are not what we need, we could set down guidelines which are very different from rules to put us in check every once in a while. Putting on these trousers for the first time in five years to her office should at least be waved off, after all, I gave reasons as to why I have chosen the dress, what annoys me is that the trouser is a big one, one that conceals my body so well, one that should be termed responsible, but no, she is blinded by the rules of dressing.

I have broken so many rules in secret, we all have, like how I went to get weed with a friend and perfumed my body to conceal the odour or how I went to meet a smooth guy and got laid or perhaps the fact that I got my nose and tragus pierced. Rules will one day lead us to our deaths or save us from death.

Don’t talk to me about rules and keeping them, because yellow is evil and so are rules.

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