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My instagram Love - Season 1 - Episode 43
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Source: coolval

A wise man once said: “In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.”

I could remember when I stumbled upon a particular inspirational quote that was written boldly on an old bulletin, which states: “Owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing that we’ll ever do.”

I couldn’t agree more with those quotes! They were both facts. As a matter of fact, they were both instruments of hope for me, because one thing I later realized was that when there is hope, there is life. I shouldn’t have done what I did. I should’ve never attempted to take my life because of what people usually think and say about me. I should’ve embraced the pain, cried my eyes out and made it a part of me so that it would fade away with time, but unfortunately I did otherwise, which almost led to my untimely death.

I knew I was so lucky to still be alive after what I’d experienced on that traumatic night. For the first time in my life, I faced death and conquered it as if it was nothing important to be feared, which was only possible by God’s grace. I could still remember the excruciating pain I passed through that made me bleed through the nostrils, coughed up raw blood, and tormented my stomach until I passed out eventually. I should’ve died that night for sure, but somehow I survived. I swallowed a slice of beef that was laced with rat poison, drank a full bottle of highly dangerous insecticide, and plunged an old kitchen knife into my tummy, yet I survived it all. Ninety-seven percent of any average individual would’ve died from something like that, but I didn’t. Why, you might ask? Well, I couldn’t understand or explain the reason either. Perhaps it wasn’t my time to go. Maybe I had a purpose to fulfill on Earth before I’d cease to exist. Or maybe–just maybe this was my second chance to amend my ways with the help of the most high God, forget about the past and start all over again.

I couldn’t cry over spilt milk anymore. Even though the memory of everything I’d been through was still as fresh as a blooming sunflower in my head, there was actually nothing I could do about it. What had happened had happened, and there was no going back at all. My profound philosophy about life was ‘forward ever, backward never.’ This was something I understood within the five days I spent in the ICU of a prestigious hospital where I was admitted for the professional treatment of my health. When I was discharged on the sixth day, I got back home and realized that I was very ignorant, and stupid. Ignorant for letting a man’s actions weigh me down, and stupid for attempting suicide without giving proper thought to the effect it’d have on my loving family.

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