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Short Story Of A Suicide Victim by krissconnect(m): 10:33am On Aug 20, 2019 |
Mornings suddenly turned into nights, and nights into longer nights and longer nights into depressed ones. Depression leapt up to me every second like a thief. Hunger beat me with my hands tied behind my back. Sadness beclouded my thoughts. Darkness crept through my window every time the sun tried to peep through it. I was lost each day. A graduate of Nnamdi Azikiwe University. I roamed through the streets with the first rays the sun beamed. I studied every length and breath, searching for job. I walked uptown to downtown as i watched AM turn to PM. Yet every door i approached gave me the regular clapback "I'm sorry, we cant hire you". Tears rolled down my eyes coupled with the beat from the sun which hit me unrepentantly, I couldnt tell which flooded my face; the tears or the sweats, I couldnt say which perturbed me most apparently; the trouble of trekking the far distance back to my rented hut or the rhythm of beats hunger was drumming in my stomach. I couldnt say again. Then this night, it was just like every other night; lonely, sorrowful, hunger stricken, encroached with sad thoughts... Except that my heart beat faster tonight, Except that i had just one particular though occupy my mind rent free, Except that i had a bottle of sniper lying seductively at the corner of my room. Except that i couldnt think of any other thing but to quit it all. The next day, I saw myself in a coffin. So peaceful and empty of all the worries of life. I saw people gathered around me. I saw the same tears rolling down their eyes and little mumbles of regret and sorrow. I saw Mr Akpan, who refused to attend to my cause when i was breathing. I saw the friends who deserted me rally around my grave, puffing silent tears and nodding their heads in regret. I saw Mr Gafe who refused to offer me the menial job, muster to Mrs Gafe, "If i had known, i would have helped him". I saw Sam who claimed he was too busy to come to my cause when i was alive, mourning and cursing me for not holding on for too longer. I saw a lot of friends and relatives who never replied to my plea for help donating huge sum of money for my burial ceremony. I saw the foods i longed for littered all over on my burial ceremony, I saw the naira notes i terribly needed lying carelessly on the ground as they flew freely from my relatives hands. If only i could wake up and take them, i wouldnt have died. I saw them and i cried even though i was dead, I cried and cried and smiled. I smiled because its all empty over here, Because i was free from the torments Because the sorrowful nights are over, Because i cant die again. PS: we tend to care more for the dead morethan we do the living. 3 Likes 1 Share |
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