A Meal For A Day

I have a meal for the day. Sorry, I mean I thought I had a meal for the day because the one left in the kitchen smelled of stench. That day marked the sixth year I graduated from university with no job to call my own, no father to call my dad and a mother to call my mum. Stream filled my face but I held them tight because they seemed to be useless. “If the tears could transform into wings”, I wished deeply as I took a deep breath, dusted my so called suit that already had two rat holes in it.

Believe me, if a rat passed at that moment, breakfast would be set; thanks goodness I had a box of match left to do the roasting. But unfortunately, none did a walk of fame in my room.

Off, I went with no hope to return home ever. Death smiled at me as I looked at my certificate for the last time. Finally, the stream came running down my cheek. But what can I make use of it? I brought out a note, a pen and with the spirit of a poet, I wrote;

“Rejected I was from the date of my birth

Not even my blood took a rinse in the bath

My head was hanging there upside like a bat

Into the forest I go to breathe my last

Not what I wished for, but my life could endure nothing than a lambast

Every stone I climbed became nothing than a dust in the blast

Into nothing I go but the forest to end my hope

My star will soon end up in dust I know”

After writing, I read again and again in tears, wondering what usefulness my life was worth. I knew right within me that suicide was my only relief. But I had made up my mind never to do it in the house, so I left home wallowing in pain and fear together with a rope in my hand to do justice.

I stepped out, blinking every second because the strength in me was only left to take me to my quietus. Just as I hopped to cross the road, a truck sped by and the wind took me to the floor. I stood, dusted my cloth and off to demise I went until I heard a car horn behind me, “Bros, let me give you a ride to the junction”, the woman driving said. I wanted to say no, but the energy left within me could not, so I entered softly. I saw the pity on her face as she saw the double rat hole in my suit. “I am sorry to intrude your privacy, but you really look frail, are you alright”? She asked. I wanted to give her a fake ‘alright’ smile, but my chin would not give way. Tears rolled down my chin as I blabber within no exact word flowing forth. “It’s alright”, she said as she made a turn into a restaurant. She ordered me a meal and watched me eat like dog struggling with a bone.

She questioned me about everything and I answered almost everything. Sun of joy came smiling on me as she offered to help in her little way. She took the rope from me and gave me hope. Today I am alive to write this story because of the lady who did not only give me a meal for the day but hope for all day.

I now give meals to people who are what I was. There are millions of people having suicide ideation today. Help someone not to kill themself.

Written by Kelvin Adeoluwa Adeniyi

 

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