The Secret Diaries of a Perfect Law Student


#np – Miracle Worker by Glowreeyah & Nathaniel Bassey (on repeat)

May 12
Dear Davy Jones, God knows the exams were postponed by one week because of me. I was just wasting away here doing nothing.
One more week to get my shit act  together. I am so sorry for not writing more often. I have been swamped lately.
May 15
Dear Davy Jones, overnight atm. My eyelids weigh a ton. Plus I miss Dare, he would have been my ginger. We have not talked much since that April fool’s day prank. Serves him right. *sigh*
May 16
Dear Davy Jones,  got to the  library by 9.43am, no single empty space. I just can’t deal right now. In a cab back to new hall.
Technically, you have not met my roommates. We don’t talk much and we don’t get along. Makama’s toilet is really bad, so most times, I stay in Kelechi’s apartment. I can count how many times I have slept in my room. I have been ignoring them and their silent jabs right until the straw that broke the camel’s back…
Reading at the FLT or Dip. Class or Mild doesn’t work for me, how can the library be full by  past nine. God have mercy. I went to my room. As usual, my roomies are gisting their lives away (yh, it is that serious). So, this is me on my bed trying to read my conflict. I just don’t understand that thing. Each time I read a particular topic, I get a different interpretation. I try to use my earpiece to block them out, but my idiotic bunkmate’s squatter’s laughter still pierces through the music. I sigh like five times. I am getting angry. The noise continues. I feel the steam pouring out of my ears. I can’t even take it again. I jump from my bed and kick the door open. I point at the new comer and tell her to get out. She looks at me as she shuffles towards the door. The squatter pulls her back. I throw her a dirty look. She opens her mouth to say something. I hold up my hand as I say, ‘You don’t want to try that, Bloody Squatter’. I caught her by surprise. She keeps mute. I throw all of them a dirty look as I climb my bed back. One idiot hisses and another retard is like, ‘shebi we all paid hostel fees’.  I don’t give a damn. I bet the only reason I got away with that was cuz it was not expected. I learnt that day, that to a large extent, law students are not really liked, but a grudging respect is usually attached to that hatred. If I hear say I no use am…
May 18
Dear Davy Jones, MFM exam prayer atm. So the social prefect  secretary  speaks in tongues? Issokay. See law students praying like the prayer warriors in Mount Zion films. God save my soul. Uche’s head was just shaking like it would fall of any moment from now. So that Wale is a pastor? Hmmm… Am I too late, dear God? Coming to fellowship during exam prayers….
Drank a flask of black coffee – no milk or sugar – in preparation of overnight. Slept like a baby, I even drooled in my sleep. Pillow smells like ‘spitland’
May 27
Last day of exam prayers. Grabbing my five point like my life depends on it. All the enemies of my father’s house die by fire. Faculty of Law release my five point. (Amen) This is not a joking sturve. Kelechi thinks I am crazy…
May 29
Dear Davy Jones, respite at last. Happy Democrazy day!Last paper – Equity – on Monday. My test was bad. I just hope I leave year four in one piece. I. Can’t. Deal. As for my roommates, in for a penny, in for a pound. I think they set me up but no weapon fashioned against me….
I hate this inter gender visitation crap. I am not necessarily a nudist, but there are just some days you just wanna feel sexy -___-  (What? Is it bad to have sex appeal and know that you have it)? Today is one of those days. Aaaaargghhh…  I have been in Ruka’s room since like 9 in the morning. She is pretty smart and am learning the mnemonics she uses in her reading. I was on tank top and bum shorts, but thanks to the crazy light situation or lack of it, I strip to my bra. So that is how I traipse along makama corridor a couple of minutes after 5 forgetting that boys were in the hotel. I come to a grinding halt when I see a crowd in front of her room. I can tell that the facility manager is in her room, and a few boys are in the crowd. I backpedal, but I am too late. A boy whipps his head and catches a full view of my chest. I groan inwardly as I put my finger on my lips and plead with him with my eyes to remain silent. Everyone is busy trying to find out what is going on, so I escape before anything else happens. I rush to get my tank top in my room. There are three guys in my room, and with the little dignity I have left, I tie my wrapper and quietly slip into my bed willing my tears not to fall. The boys seem a little abashed, but they don’t seem to be going anywhere. I have barely settled in when the blood squatter walks in. Her wrapper is loosely tied and she tugs it immediately she comes in giving the poor guys a wholesome view of her thoracic region. There is this awkward silence, like that moment before a ticking bomb goes off.
I hope I can aptly describe what happens next. Naked like the day she was born, she takes the potty from under the bed, full of a day old urine (my bunkie and her blood squatter store urine – disgusting acts by disgusting people.) and the next thing I know is there is urine everywhere, the guys were not lucky at all. One of them wore it as a cap. I. Am. Dazed. Like. What. Is. Going. On. Here? One of the guys try to calm her down, but she grabs a knife from the stack of dirty plates and waves it at him. The guy doesn’t move an inch. She looks at me as if to ask who invited them, I shrug. God knows I am scared – angry people with knives are worse than hungry lions. She turns on my bunkie – her squattee – and before I know it, words, blows and blood are flying everywhere. I begin to cry harder. ‘Somebody help…. Please!!!! Help!’ .
June 1
Dear Davy Jones, Happy new month. End of exams. I am a survivor. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. My parents are not buying the I-am-traumatised story. I have to make up with my roommates so second semester can be peaceful. I really can’t deal.

Let me tell you a secret -_-
@lapetiteavocat on twitter

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