Tears rolled down my eyes, as i slid down the wall, thoughts echo through my frail mind.
“do i really deserve this?”
“why did it have to be me?”
“why can't i do things right?”
More tears fell, i felt incompetent and useless, Maybe i did deserve this. Maybe...just maybe
I took my blade,that had been safely tucked into my Jean pocket, i rolled off my white sleeve, and made a deep long cut.
Seeing blood had never been so appeasing, so relaxing, maybe it was the fact, that loosing it. Would finally rid me of the pain of this world.
A tear slipped my eyes.
For people who don't know, or who haven't guessed, i suffer from severe depression.
In my world, being depressed is seen as you looking for attention or watching too many movies.
In my world, it's easier for parents to notice your shortcomings and mistakes, than your dire need to leave this world.
In my world, you being odd equals you being an outcast, you being a square equals you being the wrong one,in my world, distinction and uniqueness happens to be a flaw.
In my world, when you say you are depressed people reply you with " others have it worse"
How was that supposed to help me?
That's why i'm here, i'm fed up, of constantly explaining myself, to people who humour rumours, i am fed up, of constantly running miles for people who would never take steps for me I am fed up, of pleasing people, who never appreciate me..
I am fed up of being misunderstood, shadowed and continually critisized.
I made the second cut, and entered the bath tub, with my hand of each side, my mind got swallowed in my heap of thoughts.
Blood dropped, they say when you are about to die, your life flashes before your eyes, but i didn't see a thing maybe, because i spent my life trying to please the wrong people, i wasted my time trying to fit the wrong group, i killed my innocence while trying to save the wrong souls
But deep down, deep down, i wanted someone to burst through that door, to tell me i was good enough, to tell me that i did not deserve the life i lived, to tell me it was okay to be a square in the midst of circles, to remind me that life would never be the same without me.
But no. No one came
Slowly but surely, it dawned on me, i would die here, the same way i lived, in the company of the thoughts that haunted me. I closed my eyes, fear and pain on very side
“Mom!” i heard a voice yell. For some reason i couldn't feel pain.
I looked at it was my sister, she was distraught, and she held my- my body?
Oh yes, i was dead.
She cried and wailed, she begged for me to wake up, she told me she loved me, she told me not to leave her.
The irony, while i was alive, i wanted to hear these things, to feel loved., and now when i'm dead, they sing odes?
My parents ran in, they cried and wailed...
If only i knew, if only.
But i couldn't read their minds.
Just like they could never mine
So, please. Tell mother, i love her, tell that i'm sorry wasn't strong enough Tell my sister i tried my best i tried to fit in, but i guess that just wasn't me Tell my father i admire him, but i'm not his strong princess, tell him i'm sorry.
For i let depression beat me at my own game. END
Now, listen carefully
3 in 5 children or teenagers suffer from depression, 50 percent from abuse, 25 percent bullying and 25 percent from inferiority complexes.
Watch what you say to whom ever you see.
Your one word enough to kill someone.
Never tell a depressed person " others have it worse"
It cause self hate. It doesn't solve a thing
Never tell a depressed person
Those two words are harder than finding a needle in a hay bag..
And to any depressed person out there.
Your life is too precious, for you to sell it to depression
Your future is too bright, for you to turn it off on impulse.
They didn't have guns. They had no ammunitions Just placards and their voices Literally begging for their right to life They were expressing their desperation.
They were gunned down and murdered like cattle. For what exactly? For demanding justice they deserved? For simply asking to be allowed to live in peace? For wanting a better Nigeria?
They were gunned down Blood soaked the grounds As souls abandoned their bodies It the shadows of the night Bodies hidden from sight.
Mark this day 20 October 2020 It's not just the day our government Killed our people opening It's the day Nigeria Murdered her children Their blood has stained the flag they designed for their honour Their bodies have littered the floors on which they demanded justice They souls are restless Demanding to know why they have been deprived of life
Oh so young
Mark this day 20th October 2020 It's not only the day They slaughtered unarmed peaceful protesters It's the day they stole the lives of brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, uncles, aunties, cousins, nephews and nieces
Oh ! There I was, Standing in front of the mirror Looking at my 8-year-old clone And asking her, Who am I? Why am I on this Earth? Am I one of God's soldiers? Buzzing up with these questions I gradually grew up .
Then, I stood in front of the mirror Asking my 13-year-old twin What should I become when I grow old? Or is age just a cause for delaying what I can do right at this moment? And just like that, I grew a bit more rustier, Losing my friskiness, Getting ignored by my classmates.
And now, standing in front of the mirror I see my 16-year-old look alike Having the exact expression as mine. I ask her, Will I leave an impact in anyone's heart, If I leave this world right at this moment? Will I bring a smile on someone's face, If they ever remember me? Will people sense my presence In my paintings and stories? And of course at this moment I know the answer To the questions that I had asked before. I have a part to play on this Earth And I have decided to become a person Who can completely justify humanity, Such that people can always remember me as The best human in this world!!!!