My suicide note

Courtesy of- https://www.google.com

Growing up, we knew the solutions to life challenges were in parents, mum had solutions to all the bullies out in the play field. We’d always run back to them when we couldn’t face these ‘stronger’ beings out there. Dad had solutions to everything we needed that we couldn’t have. He held the keys to all permissions, and all matters financial. We even hoped he would get us a jet when we thought we needed one, forget the fact that he couldn’t afford a jalopy. But I hoped and believed that all my problems had capable people to take care of them.

When we moved a notch higher, the teacher had solutions to all life problems. Finding that ‘x’ in a math problem would be trouble, but I always stood, watched and marveled as the teacher went about finding the solution to it. It always looked like ‘abracadabra’ and it still does to date. I have never been a numbers person, if anything I have a phobia for numbers. But somehow the teacher had a solution and temporarily made me understand, even if just till after I had sat my exams even when it was that complex mole concept.

At some point I thought education would be a solution to everything, and I worked hard to ensure I achieved that which I thought was the panacea to life problems. The perception that all hardships would drift away with the attainment of education, that a career would bring satisfaction and money in turn would bring joy. And I sat through school, not the best in class but among the top cream through all stages. God even gave me a job on the very day I sat my last undergraduate exams, just to make sure I don’t experience the tarmacking phase. And a great career it has been that has grown steadily in the last three and a half years.

I know this will sound suicidal, crazy, insane, the best of my friends will say I have lost it, and trust me these are friends who have my best interests at heart, the ones I will not part ways with even when we owe each other millions. But time has come for me to kill life, to kill pleasure, commit the gravest mistake according to earthly standards and start a ‘boring’ journey with Him. Turn to the parent of all parents, the teacher of all teachers, in a stage called re-evaluation, because all other solutions have proved to be blank stares at the roof when you have nothing to write on the exam sheet.

On suicide watch…

He walked to the door and hoped she’d let him go, he knew he could easily throw her out of his way and walk past the door. He knew better than to use force against a lady and held it in with restraint. He only gave a slight shove when it was clear she wasn’t going to let him through. He looked at the others look on, probably with fear, probably not knowing what was happening, or probably not bothered at all. He was on suicide watch!

He had not had it easy for the past few weeks. He had no one to tell what he has been going through. He had no shoulder to lean on, he had no chest he could cry on. He thought maybe the knife was a shoulder enough; maybe an overdose was a better chest to weep on. He felt like he had a stone resting on his heart, or probably an anchor pulling it down and holding it there. He was on suicide watch! 

He managed to get past her, at least after using a little force. He had managed to get the door open but she had held to his jacket collar. He struggled to get off the “hook” and just as he unhooked himself from the grip he saw the younger one walking along the corridor. He wouldn’t know how to restore the respect she has had for him all this while. He wouldn’t know how to deal with the high esteem she regarded him with that would now chase the center of gravity. He was on suicide watch!

“He is going to commit suicide”, she shouted, as he walked out of the door and knocked down the beer bottle that stood on the door mat. He walked faster with brisk steps as she tried to catch up with him, but she couldn’t. He galloped down the stairs wondering what a scene this had been. He hated drama; no it wasn’t one of the things he lived for. He was on suicide watch.

He thought to himself “This is the greatest disrespect she has shown me ever since’. He had her secret safely kept and thought that maybe it would be the perfect comeback, but love held him back. He wasn’t just for the promise made but for the love he felt for her. He walked past the gate but couldn’t go far. He couldn’t leave at least not walk out on his brother even if love died. He was on suicide watch!

He turned back, not sure why he was headed there. He just had to go back and say how much he felt abused. He had to let it known that he wouldn’t let out, not even with the embarrassment he had faced. He called and wanted to speak with her, her alone and no one else, just like it has always been. He couldn’t understand why others had to be brought in on this particular morning. He was on suicide watch!

He had felt bad all night, he had had little sleep. He woke up to texting, he felt that the way out and end was the only way. He had tried all there is to be understood but all efforts seemed futile. He was still poor, still stressed, he was still overwhelmed. He knew, what they couldn’t tell was that he had actually embraced the knife, the only shoulder he knew. He was on suicide watch!

He had to come back, at least for love and to affirm that the secret was safe. He knew love was greater than the selfish thought of hugging a knife. He was on suicide watch! 

The Selfish “S” in suicide

I couldn’t let you go, I wouldn’t at all. I didn’t want to. No I could not let it happen. Despite the baggage I had, despite the hidden person in me. How could I, everybody would know the baggage I have in me. What I have held inside for long would finally come to light. Then I would be what I fear most “The Villain”, despite the numerous attempts I had made to make it all right.

But I had to let go, how I could hold back when everyone else wanted you gone, was a puzzle. I wasn’t sure of what I wanted to do. I didn’t know whether it was good, neither for me nor for anyone else that I had encountered in my life. I knew it would hurt, at least for me, I don’t know whether it would anyone else but I guess I cared less either. Did it matter anyway at this point? I guess it didn’t at all. All forces seemed to be against my efforts, I don’t know who or what to blame anymore. I really wanted to understand but how could I when no one understood me at all.

It was beyond me, all I could do was blame, I know I had fault but I had to find all ways to pull you in, to make you see you were also part of all this. I tried to get into every activity that could distract me from it but seemingly none sufficed. After all that I had to pull off my clothes when the night came and with that I was forced to see the scarred skin that characterized me. Scars, which only a close to impossible plastic surgery would clear, Scars which you couldn’t live with, scars that you claimed unless worked on you would erase me like a pencil mark on a white paper.

So there you were, gone. Miles away and I couldn’t wait for what you would come back with. I knew you were coming back, that I had no doubt about. Where else would you go to? This is where you belong, this is where all you had was but what you’d come back with for me was worrying. I didn’t want the whole society to know of that which lay inside. Them I hoped would be of help seemed not to care at all. How could they not even be there when I went for joyous occasions, they couldn’t even show face when my skin burnt to this ugly hide-like covering.

So I cared less, it didn’t matter to me then. It isn’t a coincidence that in selfish and suicide lies an “S” and yeah I knew it would be selfish but nothing mattered to me at this point. But at least I told you, I wanted you to go to bed well knowing that tomorrow was like the 23^rd of December 2012 on the Mayan calendar. And so I picked the knife and plunged it in my tummy and no….it wasn’t enough, I pulled it down but I still was strong enough to pull it out and give it a fresh strike………..!