Mẹ́jì Mẹ́jì
The Illusion of Options
By all means, choose. But remember — nothing comes in twos without a toll.
So, I am the kind of person that my playlists almost always only make sense to me.
Like, I've tried sharing with people, playing songs at hangouts and nobody ever really feels the songs the way I do, no matter the genre. I think it's because of how my mind works, and how my soul searches for the source or the message that the lyrics aren’t really communicating.
I have a beautiful mind. An insanely curious and busy, but extremely beautiful mind.
So I get it.
There was a time I listened to Brymo Olawale, a lot. I mean, I don't understand Yoruba, as most of his songs are in that language, but many times, my soul could feel the weight of the lyrics. And that pushed me to always take the lyrics apart, and Google the meaning of some phrases in several contexts, crazy, right? Lol
Now, there are some songs that don’t just echo in your ears, they linger in your chest — like smoke after a fire. “Mẹ́jì Mẹ́jì” is one of those, although this piece is not the idea the lyrics actually tried to communicate.
The rhythm draws you in, but it’s the story beneath that keeps you there.
Translated from Yoruba, the phrase means “two two”, "two-by-two", "In pairs", or however you choose to know it.
But ““ isn’t about counting. It’s about craving. About being torn between desires, and the unspoken debt that comes with trying to double-dip in life.
This is the song of the human condition.
The Allure of Two
There’s something dangerously seductive about the idea of both, or the illusion of options.
Two lovers. Two lives. Multiple identities. Options. Like, "I can have both, so why settle with one?"
The safe one and the thrilling one.
The honest path and the shortcut.
The calling... and the comfort zone.
Modern culture worships the idea of abundance, of never having to choose. But no one really talks about the fragmentation that comes with straddling two worlds. We say we want freedom, but often, we’re just afraid to commit.
We chase “Mẹ́jì” because we think it means more.
But sometimes, more is really just the beginning of the mess.
Cycles and Consequences
You know the story.
You make the choice. You pay the price. You swear never again.
And yet, again.
It’s not always about cheating or lying. Sometimes it’s subtler:
The dream you abandon for fear of failing.
The role you play so well, you forget who you really are.
The comfort you cling to instead of healing.
The deeper trap isn’t in the moment of indulgence.
It’s in the repetition.
The autopilot.
The quiet, aching question: “Why do I keep doing this to myself?”
….
And then comes this heavy kind of loneliness, that follows living two lives.
Smiling outside, spiraling inside.
Being everything to everyone, but never really yourself.
Sometimes, “Mẹ́jì” isn’t about choices, it’s about masks.
The performance. The pretense. The pressure to keep up appearances in a world that rewards the curated version of you.
But every double life has a leak.
Eventually, the masks slip. The truth spills.
And what’s left is a tired version of you, spent from playing both sides.
The Fine Print of Pleasure
Every sweet thing has fine print.
It’s not that desire is evil. It’s that unchecked desire always asks for something back —time, peace, integrity, sometimes even your name.
When you choose “Mẹ́jì” you’re choosing tension.
Because the heart is not built to thrive in duplicity.
Something always gives—your joy, your focus, your freedom.
And sometimes, what you lose is not a thing but a version of you you’ll never meet again.
Now, at the surface, this is just music.
But if you listen closely, you’ll hear a mirror.
A question. A quiet call back to self:
“What are you holding in twos that should’ve been let go in ones?”
“What have you picked up that now weighs down your soul?”
Somewhere between the drums and the melody, this song is asking you to choose.
To stop dividing your heart.
To stop living in two stories.
Because not every “Mẹ́jì” is a blessing.
Some are just beautiful ways to self-destruct.
Oh and the fence? The fence isn't really a good place to sit, because you can get hit from any side, as no one really knows whose side you're on.
So, practice contentment. Be intentional.
Chef's kiss 🤌
Eihh !
That was the first thing that came to my mind.
This piece, is everything.
It's deep, warm and intentional.
Its about staying true to yourself and embracing it.
In a world that applauds polished facades and paparazzi, never ever loose yourself.
Thank you so much for this beautiful piece 🌹.