This Is Not A Suicide Note…

In continuation of the Emotive Epistle Series, today’s post was written by @Achi_va. He writes for http://redor.wordpress.com

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DISCLAIMER: NOT HUMAN

Dear Tola,

Life we must go through

On our terms and ultimately Jehovah’s

What if you wake up one morning?

Only to discover your life is neither Jehovah’s nor yours

What then do you do?

I was born into affluence, a silver spoon for breakfast, gold for lunch and diamonds for dinner. I know you know this, you know this well.  I was taught to breathe, to walk, to eat, to talk, to behave a certain way, the way that pleased them. As young as five, I already knew what I was gonna be, not what I wanted to be. Dreams were dreamt for me, mountains erupted so I might trample them, you know as the son of one of the richest men on the continent? I just had to fit the bill, the particular spectra, no room for slacking.

Choice was no option, everything was done for me, everything I tell you, till I was in college, I had never washed even my underwear, that was of course because Daddy’s maid servant couldn’t make it that weekend. Of course she was fired, Daddy made sure of it, he couldn’t accept incompetence from even someone as significant as a house girl, someone of whom he didn’t even know her name, he was just angry that his son was made to do such trivial and menacingly degrading chores, no son of his was gonna be treated like that ever!

I was lost for as far as I can remember, but I thought he money was gonna solve my problems, I could travel anywhere I wanted, buy almost anything I liked, I sacrificed choice for affluence, rights to life for money, I felt bad, like a criminal about to be caught on his maiden heist, I felt my life was a lie, a scam, a robbery, I was the deceiver and the deceived, the thief and the victim at the same time, no one should feel like this but then again I thought choice was no option. Then I met you, at that dinner, I remember the first time I laid eyes on you, I was stunned, and like a dream everything worked out. It was like a dream, when I took you home to meet momma and she agreed to my terms and took a liking to you almost instantly, I overlooked suspicions; I was just unbelievably stoked and overjoyed. I remember seeing you come to the aisle, I felt that for once in my life I had done something on my own accord, like I had finally made a choice.

I got to the office last week, looked at the quarterly profits and voila, our profits had tripled, I was happy but wait this was unusual, only a merger or acquisition could pull this off. But for some reason I couldn’t find out which company we had acquired, I even asked pops but he tried sweeping it under the carpet. So I snuck into his office one yesterday morning, low and behold I found the documents. It was your maiden name Tola, written boldly on the paper. I finally understood why everything went as smoothly, it was planned and I was the variable, the wild card, and fortunately for them I agreed to be tamed. I didn’t need any explanation from you, I knew what had happened, your father’s company was going under so he decided to sell his company with the condition that his daughter be catered for. Like a weed, you were planted at that party, with the intention to seduce me, I was always the target aint it?  Little wonder beforehand I had always found solace in the arms of prostitutes, because I found it hard to approach a girl. Momma always told me that when the time came, I would find the one. Little wonder you still replied me with my cheesy pick-up lines and bad attempts at making small talk not to even talk about a full blown conversation.

Well it’s too late to cry when the head is already cut-off, too late to wail over spilled milk. This is not a letter of divorce though; I love you too much to do that to you. You will be well catered for, I just want to let you know that I’ve decided to end my life. As I stare at the pills I’m about to inhale, I finally feel in control of my destiny, of my fate and for someone like me, I can boldly say that the number of fingers on my right hand are more than the number of times I’ve felt this way. Even if you don’t really love me, you can at least be happy for me. Thank you for reading and God bless.

TUNDE.

 

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