Dear Najat,
I never believe any Daughter of Eve could make my heart somersaults
into craving for her love. The inertia of an incorrigible heart like mine has
been set into motion without any regard to Newton's First Law of Motion.
My Dagbandoo heart has always being meh albeit my several encounters
with love stories, books and movies. The Sapashini in me has sublimed into an
immeasurable subservience. And I'm ready do the unthinkable, like slapping
President John Mahama, to win you.
Kavini is the watchword of a Dagomba warrior like me, but I've bid
farewell to it even before you give me a chance to be thrashed into your
servitude.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. But trust me, anyone who fails
to see your beauty is a beer holder. Your beauty is unacceptably sickening. And
I do hope you can appreciate a clear sense that the writer of this very letter
is sick. In fact, very sick!
Illusion is what I used to describe love. I've always thought Romeo
was so stupid to have died for Juliet's love. My mind changed the very day I
saw you afar. The closer we get, I think of getting a heart surgeon to remove
my heart and hand it over to you.
My vital signs are now monitored countless times everyday. The
sphygmomanometer is unhappy with the level of my blood pressure. Scaringly, my
pulse is now googol per minute. (googol = 1 followed by 100 zeros).
The incalculable admiration for my mum has never been challenged.
The record depth of mum's love in my heart is as clean as Mayweather's. Now I'm
screamingly afraid you're going to batter the record.
Oh my God! Your presence before my very eyes makes me feel that
dumsor is nothing but a mere political noise. I'm always unaware that I'm in
dumsor until you're out of my sight. I know when the sun goes on vacation, you
will be the best replacement - you're brighter than any brightness generated by
all the supposed megawatts in Ghana.
You're the periscope that I can use to visualise hope when I'm
submerged deeply in trouble waters. The peristaltic force to catapult me to the
zenith of my dreams. I'm ever very ready to spend every penny I have on you. I
don't even mind breaking into Bank of Ghana to meet your needs.
As a compulsive poster of my facebook status, it's only your love
that can set new rules of my unmoderated activities on facebook.
I just hope you haven't jujued me because this obsession about you
has reached the status of National Security. Seriously, all my body parts are
now singing the Najat's chorus. I'm even thinking of changing my official name
to Najat without affidavit.
Your Crush,
Sapashini.
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