PILLS TO HEALS

Spare me a minute of your time

I have suffered depression, not once not twice not thrice but a multiple times have I been a slave to this ILL natured thing called depression, the thing about depression is its strong enslaving grip; it doesn't let a man go at least not easily.
While I suffered depression the past few years I endangered my life doing things I should never have done I felt a huge vacuum in my world and nothing filled it right so I stuffed it with all the wrong things seeking comfort from each of them as they left me addicted to their misery while they stayed ruining the little that was left of me.

I cried miserably day in day out though I was hurt by no one, I was never going to be perfect, I was never going to be good enough why then do I try? I please the best of the world but my gestures fall on deaf ears, why then do I try
Truth is I had contemplated that thing called suicide, I had been mentally abused and needed to get out of the torture one way or the other, so I had thought hard about a way to make it work, by strings, needles, or pills? I needed to end it and I was going to. The day came when everyone had gone on their daily biz, left alone I was ready for it, I wasn't scared of the hurt that came with it I couldn't hurt myself more than I already had.

Depression is not a joke, its an unconscious state of negativity towards oneself, it generates a lust for abuse and pain to oneself, it shatters a whole soul and leaves happiness dampened, it literally took the grace of God to deliver me from myself, from demons created by me as a result of the communication with others and I am certain that there are lots of people who feel the need to end their lives, who feel empty to hope, dejected and lost maybe due to the financial, mental, or spiritual circumstances they face, but whatever the case may be that has left you in such state understand this your life is a testimony of grace.
Trials must come, challenges must strike but you are strong enough, don't let go of those hands that hold you, drop those pills, loosen those ropes and think about all the beautiful people that would want you around, also know there are millions of people in your state right now and you owe it to them to be strong enough so they too can stand off your strength.
God loves you, I do too...suicide is not an option and depression is not a master. #pillstoheals

Thanks to everyone who bothers to read my write up, you guys make me better!

HOW IT ALL STARTED WITH BISIOLA

Bisiola pounded heavily on the mortar making sure to rid her face of trickling sweats at intervals, she had to make sure she got the best pounded yam hands could make, its not everyday one had a visitor like brother Sikiru.
Bisi like she was fondly called was a dark skinned beauty, curved at the right proportion and in strategic places, her oval faced shaped accommodated her tiny brown eyes, pointed nose and beautiful dimples that reopened with her contagious laughter which usually showcased her perfect  dentition, Bisiola was indeed a work of art, one could tell by the rythmic movement her waist produce whenever she walked down the road.

Hailing from a small village in Ogun state, a place she has happened to live all twenty one years of her life, the villagers could not but wonder how a short staggering, frumpy looking man who always had white hairs nibbling out his ill constructed nose placed carelessly on his mal shaped head and an ugly short obese dirty looking woman with a mole the size of her pinky toe hanging down her face could conceive such a child.
Rumour had it once that bisi had been adopted at a faraway orphanage in Ibadan when her parents couldn't conceive after 15 years of marriage, it was true although that Bisi's parent had gone on a long vacation in the said city and came back with a child but no one really knew the background story.
She hurriedly opened the pot checking the simmering soup to see if was done, brother Sikiru was going to be here in a few hours and she had over a million things to be elated about.
The truth is she had over heard her parents while they spoke about the aim of his visit, Sikiru was Baba Ade's son and he had come a long way with the family due to the pleasant  friendship between his father and Bisi's. Baba Ade and Bisi's father usually sat over kegs of palm wine after a hard days job in the compound and laughed at as many inside jokes as possible, they would then move to politics questioning certain actions by the government but not leaving the super eagles behind, once in their conversation baba Ade had passively made comments about the youngsters Sikiru and Bisi and how he wouldn't mind the family friendship turning into a reunion and ever since then Bisi's mother had been referred to as in law whenever the two men sat over kegs of palm wine and bush meat.
The long cliché is now gone as Sikiru had moved to the city to stay with his aunty at the age of ten but now he was coming back and he was coming for her, she over heard her father say so! He talked about how Sikiru thought the village limiting to a grown woman like Bisi and indeed he was right Bisi had major flaws that she might not have had if she were to be born in the city, she still had a bit of a pronunciation problem, a lingering accent, and some uncivilized behaviours, thoughts and attitude toward life,  though she was physically beautiful it would take a lot of work to get Bisi to a well polished standard.

The loud laughter of her mother from their tiny house shook her imaginations back to reality, she sees the coal beneath the pot is almost gone but does nothing about this, rather she stares blankly in the air anticipating her trip to Lagos, the day dream of a new life consuming her every thought. She was going to the city!

DIARY OF A STUDENT (MY CYBER CAFE EXPERIENCE)

When I'm told that people visit the cyber Cafe, I'm usually left in a state of bewilderment for the next two to three seconds after I'm hit the news, cyber cafe bawo? What exactly are you looking for in a cafe? In this modern age when even the babies in the womb are using Google earth to know their location. Is it Facebook abi twitter that you visit the cafe for? All these and more are the thoughts that foolishly gallivant my mind.

I don't have a laptop, in my year two my laptop got stolen by a group of nit wits who were dropped on their heads at birth, I was at night class that day, ( I no know who send me carry laptop go night class) when the bunch of hoodlums invaded the atmosphere with their body odour and extremely blunt cutlass, you could tell from the way they carelessly let it caress their bodies. These guys collected everything, phones, wrist watches and what not. Finally when the king Kong of the group got to me, the one who won't stop bragging about how he would cut someone's head before he left the hall, he looked at me hysterically and burst into a wild laughter
"Laptop for night class? You sef na wa" he said snatching the gadget from the table while I emptied my bladder in fear and shock.
I had gone home smelling that day, and that happens to be the sorry tale of my laptop.

Its been a while since my laptop bid its goodbye, I can't say I didn't feel its absence but like timaya would say "life anagaga" so my life went on without it. Couple of times I had stumbled upon thoughts to buy a new one but shuddered at it basically because I couldn't imagine the possibility of raising eighty thousand naira to buy a new one, where will I start from? My father will not even answer me, neither will my mum sigh. So I succeeded in going through my education without a laptop with assurance that I would get one by final year but along the way I would be in urgent need of a system.

And finally the day came when I had a project that was due for submission in less than four hours. I would like to state clearly that but for my nonchalant attitude towards things that mattered and my disturbing habit of procrastinating things could have been different.

That morning I got up like an animal on heat, truth is I could barely sleep, sleep how? When I had been dreaming about the project....I had failed to submit it almost two million times in my dreams and the last dream put me in a frenzy, I quickly jumped out of my bed my cloths soaked from sweat, I hopped into the bath tub and got ready for the day.

After much running around I found a cafe "thank you Lord" I walked in and requested for time to type out my project, brothers and sisters I should have known this was a trap from the pit of hell right from the onset when the guy bent his gen before turning it on but no, I disregarded this and sat on to do my work. At exactly thirty minutes into my work the bent gen begin giving signals of shutting down as its tempo rose and dimmed, oga cafe quickly turned to me stating that I saved my work which I did faster than the speed of light and just then did the gen fade into oblivion.

I kept my calm after all I had gone more than half way into my work and was left with about only two pages, all he would have to do is turn some fuel into the gen to get it working. After one minute of scrutinizing the gen even when we both knew why it shut down, the scruffy looking oga cafe walked up to me and requested I paid him.

"Pay you? What for?"
"So I go fit buy fuel put for gen"
I gave him a hundred and fifty naira which was the cost for one hour, wondering how much fuel he was going to get at that price as he walked away with his gallon.
Twenty minutes in and cafe boy was nowhere to be found, I kept my cool and waited reminding myself it was about two pages left. At a point I even accused the devil of filling my mind with negative thoughts casting and binding them in their numbers as they came. Almost forty minutes later, the cafe guy strolled in and emptied the content of his gallon, we were then stuck with the battle of turning on the gen as he pulled and pulled and pulled to no avail, he went to the extent of calling people who pulled with him and eventually the gen came on.

I had marked this place even if death had me dragged by its claws, I would never come here but for now I must do the needful. The systems were back on, I located my saved document and continued the race, before I could say jack the systems were off, "NEPA don bring light" he said apologizing for changing over the lines without informing me but as soon as the gen went off so did the lights.

Jesus" I shouted at the peak of my voice, well you guessed right, the pulling started again this time with even his village heads coming to pull the gen, I left my house by 9am and it was already 3pm, but I was left with two pages so I sat still till one guy from nowhere pulled the gen to life, oshey.  The lights were back on finally and the system had booted, I located my document but to my utmost surprise it won't open, I tried every means possible but it wouldn't open.
I called the cafe boy and laid my complaints, after twenty minutes of trying he apologized to me and explained that my file had been corrupted and couldn't open.
 "What then should I do?" I asked at the point of tears
"Type again, you won't pay for time" he responded
I sat blank for few seconds staring at the desktop while I bit my tongue hard to avoid tears, as I placed my hand on the keyboards to start afresh, the gen went into its epileptic rhythm till it finally died away, I looked to him questioning his next move for which he responded "you fit bring money make I buy fuel?" I slouched into my chair and begun to cry, the clock just ticked 5pm.