They said to me, you can never get to that level in life; you can only admire but never will you get there.
At first it got to me. I'd lay on my bed staring at the ceiling, mentally calculating its area and perimeter to know if fatigue would cause me to drown into a long and painless sleep. Everyday was like that, until after a while it stopped working.
The rejection continued, and I wanted the easy way out.
I returned from my routine job that faithful evening; gentle, quiet, self-absorbed I was, for it was to be my last day on earth. God! What was I thinking?
I set out for the street, a polythene back in hand, one that contained all sorts of instruments to take away my pains. There was this cloud resting over my head that caused me to view the world in a whole different light. I was going going to die and I was ready for it even if the world feigned it wasn't.
I thought of what my mother would say, how she'd react when they break the sad news to her. It broke my heart to be the one to break hers of all her thirteen children, but my mind was made up and even my love for her wasn't going to hold me back.
I thought of Abigail, the love of my life. How life would be for her once I'm finally gone - she'd be free to marry that rich man who's been toasting her for a while now. I can imagine her face, the one where she'd be angry to return home and not find her stay at home lover, only to hear later that he's gone for good. But, if the love of my mother couldn't deter me from this path, certainly not her.
The choice place for my exit - a place commonly called The Hole, based on logistics. Ironic that it had a metaphorical hole that was going to feast on my life.
The Hole welcomed me. Everyone I met from the moment I entered the arena, smiled to me. I almost felt at home. I felt welcomed and loved enough to immediately appreciate my choice of where to say goodbye. Then came the hard decision - which weapon to murder myself with? I picked up the kitchen knife, but felt it too blunt to do a neat job. Poison? Too harsh a way for anyone to die, most especially a person who the world had been thoroughly unjust to.
I had worked myself out for ten years at The Company, only to be tossed out at the slightest accusation of theft. My sack came with an assurance that I'd spend the next fifteen years of my life in jail, over an offense I sincerely know nothing about.
The easiest way out of this betrayal is death - death by the ropes. I took my weapon of choice and decorated my neck with it. Looking downward, where people gallivanted round the mall, I didn't give it a second thought, I took that leap of faith, only to be set free as fast as I did.
I went ballistic. Why would the police interfere with a man tired of this life? Why would they leave the thousands who wanted their rescue on the third mainland bridge, just for me?
My inquiry revealed they saved me to face the full extent of my crimes - stealing money from the firm and also killing the brother of the C.E.O. in retribution.
Now, I'm looked up, in chains, no way to take my life, and certainly no way did I take another man's.
What am I supposed to do?
- Arinze Talius Dike
FB: Life Summaries by Talius
Twitter: @LSbyTalius; @TaliusDike
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