“It is finished,” he had said.
“I was done,” I told myself.
There was no way I could continue, the odds were expressly stacked against me and even if I could turn things around with the snap of a finger, things still won’t be bearable.
I held the rope in my hands, my eyes pried at the loop I had tied and imagined how it would feel hugging my neck. I imagined the stiffness that would envelope my bones and how my lungs will strive harder to be lungs in its bid to suck in as much oxygen as possible.
I saw myself dangling from the fan, tongue rolled out of my mouth. ‘Yinmuing’ at no one in particular, the black of my eyes banished to the unknown. Leaving my eye balls all white, looking but seeing no one in particular.
I felt tranfigured into my corpse, with my heart not being able to continue being a heart. It was still in my chest, it wasn’t gorged out and pounded into a paste. It remained where it has always been but it was no longer the power house of my being. It couldn’t pound, the veins and arteries had no blood flowing through them, and my heart that once was the hub of my very existence was nothing but a lump of thick muscle that was anything but useful.
I felt the hands of stunned but not suprised sympathisers crawl all over my body. Pulling a hand and a leg, each reaching out to have a feel of my flesh like I was an adulterous tramp they would scoop a feel of with the excuse of teaching a lesson. I felt the tightness of the rope become loose, liberating my neck from it’s choking grip but unfortunately it happened a little too late as the breath of life had already taken a walk.
I turned and my eyes circulated across the room, I saw dry eyes collaborating with ingenuous sighs to express a sorrow that would be better of masked as indifference. I heard voices speak, singing seasoned odes of how they knew my pain and I felt the need to yell back like Jesus “I know you not!”
I took in the sea of faces and gulped with astonishment as they make presumptuous claims of why I deemed it fit to end it all. And I shudder at how far they all were from the truth but how convinced they were that they had it all figured out.
I was a maze, I still am and even something more. I am an hybrid of a rubbik cube fused into an eclectic maze and no runner could figure me out just because they are fortunate to be termed experts.
“It is finished,” he had said on that day more than a thousand years ago.
“It is finished,” he could have said at that moment too when the rope seduced me to let it kiss my neck.
“I was done,” I re-echoed the three words that epitomised the state I was in.
I climbed the stool that had been idle under the ceiling fan and fastened the loosed end to the fan. I pulled and jerked the rope, a safe check if it could support my weight and it remained firm.
My eye lids met each other and my lips opened as a short prayer crawled out. I begged for mercy and explained to God that being the all knowing God he already knew my plight and thus it shouldn’t be counted against me on judgement day that I took my life. What I had wasn’t worth being called a life, moreover no tears would drop when am gone. I spat out those words they said Jesus uttered, “not my will, but yours be done,” with the conviction that His will didn’t include my suffering and so it would be done when my suffering ends with my last breath.
I wore the other end of the rope and fastened it to my neck like a tie, I felt the knot poke me. Urging me to take a leap of fate from the stool I stood and embraced my fate. I took the leap and felt the life gush out of me as my feet dangled for a solid ground to rest upon. And by some means unimaginable I found myself back on the ground, the fan didn’t fail to support my weight, the rope snapped and with it snapped the urge to end it all. As I fell from the height I was suspended I landed on a renewed resolve to hold on and hang on. My life might pose to be not worth living but it was my duty to make it worth living.
“It’s finished” he was correct. It wasn’t my life that was finished, my sins, troubles and pains were then when the life was plucked out of him on Calvary. It took me a fall to realise it moreover I had asked for his will to be done and his will sure didn’t include me writing the epilogue of my life when he hasn’t even finished the chapter he was writing.
PS: The above is purely fiction, don’t get it twisted and I pray you don’t get lost in translation. Shalom and a most pleasant weekend to you all.
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