Two things can simultaneously exist. I know most people hitched a ride on the MaDe wagon to save Earth—nature—from humanity, but no one talks about the many lives Mother Nature has taken. It is a relief to no longer fear the sight of the river on every drive home, its presence luring my mind to conjure images of the water dragging you under, pushing its way into your lungs to make space for itself. Because where I am now, I choose my environment, I control what I see—and soon, what I remember.

This is the last letter I’ll write, the last of them without a delivery address, just needless data. I am tired of the double-edged hope that you are aware of what I am feeling. You left Earth first—like I have always done, I followed your lead and bought into the Negasi dream for selfish reasons.

At first, this disconnection from my roots brought peace. I’m not plagued by hunger, food now reduced to a concept that is no longer torture but a call to my creativity. Sleep feels foreign. The mundane tasks of hygiene that became Sisyphean rituals after your… absence are now inconsequential. I choose what I feel and how I feel it. But your memory—our memories—still paint this newfound happiness in hues of grey and black.

I can no longer live with remembering. I have successfully divorced Earth, made my escape from Mother Nature. I must escape you too.

Moments of laughter, years and years of you, all in a second, in a single tap—my voice forcefully uttering a neutral confirm. I will escape you too. You will be erased from me.

Yet, in a cruel twist of mathematically designed fate, you will be forever remembered by Mother Nature—the true culprit in your murder.

Written by Fayth Olorunmaiye