Death: My Muse

Tonight I understood suicide for what it really is. Real successful suicide is all about drive and sobriety. It is cool and calculated not an emotional floodgate like when I tried 7 years ago I was frustrated I couldn’t get a job and the helplessness was weighing me down, so what did do? I plotted on March 28th to slit my wrists. The plan was to do it in the bathroom to make it easier for family to clean up. I broke and cried out to God, that was to work out for me right? Well not really, that same year my Dad died, needless to say my newly refined disdain for God.

The only time in my life I truly remember being happy all year was when I was 7 years old. My entire family was alive and well, intact. We had dinner together, lived under one roof, before divorce split us up. There was genuine love and care. Why my parents got divorced, well it was only two years ago that I realised that it wasn’t my fault. My parents had their own drama, but to fight it off, I engaged myself in all kinds of debauchery to fill that ‘hole’ in my existence. I got tired, I got tired of living, and I needed to hope. And for once I needed to hope in something that wouldn’t disappoint me. Hehehehe! Aaah! Foolishness….Pure foolishnesss.

I didn’t realize that you can also disappoint yourself. It is as if for my life, I was on a game show that I kept winning in; The Wheel of Misfortune. On this show every time you spin the wheel you get a bonus of two misfortune cookies. A huge crunch of disaster, by the time I had hit 18 years old, I had lost 7 cousins, two siblings, a father, a grandmother I adored, 6 aunts and three pet dogs. It even got embarrassing in school constantly seeking permission to attend lavish and extravagant funerals.

Death became a muse, it was no longer just a part of human existence, it became the sole purpose of my existence. Sing at funeral services, type out boring euologies and equally boring reads of the euologies. Watch the red eyed mourners and the hungry professional bunch with growling tummies ready to pounce on all the food. When we were burying my father I recall seeing a man feasting on Chapati and chicken and asking for some more vegetables and a soda. We were weeping as we walked in a procession to the grave side; another chump was busy feasting like he was at the Ritz.

Now why suicide, I have been nothing but diligent in my work, I sacrifice sleep sometimes to ensure that I get the job done. When I request for my dues from clients the response, if at all, is “wait”. I have an auctioneer banging at my front door as I try to type as silently as I can. I have no money for bus fare, toothpaste or even a tomato to eat. I blew my airtime calling my debtors this morning, one had the audacity to tell me, “Money isn’t everything.” And their payment is three months late. I was the idiot who believed in gentlemen’s agreements. And now I am owed 200,000 Kenya Shillings…that is almot $2,400 US. How about that?

Every time the light at the end of the tunnel looks like an exit to bliss, I get rammed by on coming trains. The light isn’t hope it is further entrapment, I have tried my best to stay on the straight and narrow moved on and chosen to not live in the past. But for how long?

I was recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. How about that? I blew my savings for those tests and now the medication I need to take I can’t afford. And with my new forced diet, I might just accelerate the condition how about that? So time to spin that guaranteed win at the wheel of misfortune!

Round and round it goes, where will it land? Where will it land! Oh! There you go! Bingo! Thank you suicide! It was about time, I exited quietly out of the world that chose to rape me and rip out my guts while I was still alive.

Rebecca now you know why I chose to kill myself! This is what a relatively decent suicide note looks like, engaging clear and no, I have nothing against you. I love you, life shafted us, I just don’t have your strength to go on.



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