Unfinished Symphonies

Choosing Yourself

Photo by Meg Jenson on Unsplash

I had a very deep conversation with a friend today, and while sharing my thoughts with him, I remembered how I got the knowledge in the first place. It’s quite messy, but I hope it speaks to you.

I was a student back in the '80s. Lmao, I'm kidding oh... But I was in school, single, and trying to make the most of my time. I liked attending gospel concerts then, as they were the only "social" events I could partake in. I considered parties "too much" for me.

On this random Friday night, I attended a concert organized by the Director of Socials. He claimed it was a gospel concert and listed me as one of the performing artistes. Meanwhile, the other two artistes were secular performers from Ibari Ogwa. People who know Imo State will know this place.

Anyways, that's not the focus. That night, I met a girl.

The first thing I noticed was how carefully she moved her feet, like the whole world depended on every step she took to stay in one piece. She had these beautiful, tired eyes that seemed to say, "Just take my hands and hold me as closely as you ever can." She was so beautiful, and her skin seemed to reflect the texture of her soul—tender.

For the second time in my life, I walked up to a woman. She was in the company of other young ladies and gentlemen, but it didn't matter to me. I had found my soulmate, and it wasn't the hair cream.

"Hi, you look so ravishing. Good evening," I quickly said, and it dawned on me immediately that she hadn't been smiling the entire time. "But you don't seem to be enjoying the evening. Is everything alright?"

She took a deep breath, then greeted me. She went on to narrate how she was robbed on her way to the concert, and her phone was taken. Which explained why she was with all those friends and well-wishers. I was so moved, but what made me even sadder was that I wasn't going home with her phone number. I cussed at the robbers in my mind and wished them the worst.

But that lasted for a moment because I was soon plotting my next move. I wasn't going to back down, not without a fight at least.

I offered her comforting words and insisted on having the stolen number in case she ever did a SIM swap, and she happily gave it to me as we bade each other farewell.

I would go on to spend the next couple of weeks thinking about her, hoping to run into her by chance and maybe, just maybe, start planning a future with her in it. None of my friends could convince me she wasn't the one. I was really hoping, but to no avail.

I was tired, but I still believed. Until one random Saturday afternoon.

It was like every other day and didn't seem to hold any promises. I just had my normal Saturday routine: wake up, clean my room, do some laundry, buy okpa and eat it with bread and Coke, and then go for choir rehearsal, and my day was made.

I was on track until a friend of mine needed me to pick up a book I had given him from his hostel, and I didn't mind since it was just a 3-minute walk from my lodge.

I quickly dressed up and scurried to the lodge, and as soon as I opened the gate, guess who was sitting outside doing laundry? Yeah, that's right!

I was so startled at this pleasant surprise.

"Oh heyyy! How are you? Do you live here? For how long?" The questions kept flying because, how have you been living here and I have never set eyes on you?

Anyways, we had a moment to catch up, and it happened she hadn't gotten a phone yet. Made me sadder, but this time I had to do something about it, especially if I wanted to start scoring points.

So I called Limpopo (my friend) who had just gotten a new phone and wanted to sell off the one he had just used for a couple of months. We bargained the price, discussed a payment plan, and the phone was all mine. I didn't waste any time as I got the phone to her, and she did a SIM swap, and now we could talk anytime. I felt so formidable.

We soon started hanging out often; she introduced me to her kid brother in the same school, and I even got to speak with her mom on a few occasions. The love story was cooking, lmao. "We were just kids when we feeeellll in loff, not knowing what it was..." or how do y'all sing that song again? My friends liked her a lot because she was her! She had everything and could also sing like mad! And like I said, the love story was cooking.

Before all the lovey-dovey stuff, I had asked several times, and she confirmed she was very, very single and open to dating, which encouraged my pursuit, right?

Then, after a period, we had this moment, and it just felt right to ask her out, and you guys know me normally, I try to be a sweet man. Even if it means adding honey to my bath water. But can you believe that this girl now started stammering? I never thought she'd not tell me yes. She said, "Oh, I actually got out of an abusive relationship, and I am still healing."

Phewww!

I was again drowning in compassion, and I understood. I started looking for ways to help someone who was in an abusive relationship to heal, and this continued for months, and I was honestly the boyfriend who didn't actually have a title, based on all the roles I was playing. (If you want the details, carry cane and meet me at 3rd Mainland Bridge)

Anyways, after about 3 months, we had a conversation, and she "was in a better place," so I asked again.

And for the second time, she said she wasn't ready. And at this point, I was so confused oh walahi.

I am literally already doing everything a boyfriend should do for this babe when it comes to "taking care" or "taking responsibility," and it's not only you, but your brother too. But you're not ready to commit? Why?

At this point, you'd think I had learned my lessons and moved on. But that's not how I love oh. I was not going anywhere. I wish I knew better though.

I gave her some more time and asked again, and the response I got was worse than the other times. Because this time, she was now dating someone. And someone wasn't me. My dear people, I was so distraught. How? Since when? Who? Why?

There was no question I didn't ask, but it is what it is.

I won't lie, the guy was a bit taller than me and had more chest than me sha, but that was about it.

I didn't know what to do again at this point, so I just went into my shell.

Started keeping my distance, but she wanted more. She wanted to be "friends." She wanted to visit me, and I'd cook food for her as before, and also give her anything she needed. I didn't know how to say no at first, but then I had enough after she came crying that her new man had locked her out one time, and I sat there wondering what I was expected to do. Should I go and fight him? Someone with that kind of chest? So that they will beat two of us? Nah. I said, "Sorry oh, but I don't know what to do. Just wait; when he calms down, he will give you your key back, pele."

And that was when I made up my mind that I didn't need her in my space anymore.

So, I invited her out and let her know that I'd never want to see her or hear from her again. And that chapter closed forever.

Why have I shared this story?

Because rejection is real. And in the corporate jungle of life and love, it’s not a question of if you’ll face rejection. It’s when.
It’s in those moments that we define who we are becoming.

There’s a kind of silence that falls after you offer someone your heart and they hand it back — untouched, unopened. It’s the kind of silence that echoes in every hallway of your mind for weeks, even when life is busy pretending nothing happened.

I tried everything. I showed up. I sacrificed. I loved in ways that had no title, played roles that were never fully acknowledged. And when I finally asked, trembling with anticipation, she said she wasn’t ready. Not once. Not twice. But enough times to turn my heartbeat into a hesitant drum.

And still, I stayed. Because sometimes, love makes you stubborn in all the wrong ways. It makes you believe that if you give more, wait longer, pray harder, you’ll earn what should have been freely given.

But love, in its purest form, demands choice. And the hard truth is: People are allowed to not choose you. Even when you've written sonnets for them in your sleep. Even when you've held the bleeding parts of their stories in your hands. Even when you have loved them with a love that makes the angels sigh.

Even Jesus, the Savior who stretched Himself on a bloody cross for the entire world, still faces rejection every single day. A whole Oyigiyigi!
There are people who may never choose Him, no matter how loudly Heaven sings their name.

If He, being perfect, gets rejected... why do we think we’re exempt?

Rejection, as brutal and gutting as it feels, isn’t always about us being "not enough." Sometimes, it’s about the invisible wars in the other person's heart.
The healing they haven’t finished.
The fears they haven’t confronted.
The prayers they haven’t yet learned how to pray.

And the hardest part? Sometimes, they choose someone else not because they're better, but because they're easier to lose to. More convenient. Less confronting. Less... honest.

You could be the best thing God carefully crafted in His studio of wonders — and someone could still walk away like you’re just another brushstroke.

And that's okay. It doesn't make you less of a masterpiece.

So, what do you do after facing rejection?

You grieve properly.
You let the tears come without shame.
You let the anger scream its way through your chest.
You let the ache teach you new songs you never knew you needed to sing.
You become fluent in letting go, not because you are weak, but because you are wise.

And then, you rebuild.

Because rejection is not a tombstone. It’s a turning point.
It’s not God telling you, "You are unworthy."
It’s God whispering, "Come higher, I have something better."

You are not a mistake because someone mishandled you.
You are not unlovable because someone was too blind to see you.

You are still magic.
You are still a wonder.
You are still worthy.

And the kind of love that sees you fully and chooses you boldly?
It’s still ahead.
Walking steadily toward you.
Closer than you think.