That Piece of Paper

depression

To He (Or She) Who Finds Me First,

Today was different. I was brave today. You may call me a coward when you read this but Caesar and I would disagree. Have you read Julius Caesar by Shakespeare?

Were you looking for me? Or you stumbled upon me just lying there? Well, I guess that’s irrelevant. If I don’t know you already, we can’t be friends now. I would not have gone out of my way to make that happen though but I want to think that because you took your time to read this, you’re a good person. I did not know a lot of good people.

I do not know if life is hard. Actually, I don’t think it is. You just have to take one slow breath after another and that is it. It’s not like you have to think about that. You never make a conscious decision to breathe. You just do it. What you do choose however, is how to live. I don’t know how I did on that front. I guess I never did make that choice. There is no time left. I am now a mass of flesh, words unsaid and this piece of paper that sits ever so gingerly in your hand.

In case you’re still reading to find out why I did what I did; I do not have the answer. There’s no answer to the why. There was just the answer for the how; how to escape. Insanity is expecting a different result while still doing the same thing over and over. This was my different thing. I am not insane.

I am sorry. Do not misunderstand though; I have no regrets. Or I refuse to call them regrets. I just have ways in which things might have been better. I should have spoken more. Silence is golden. But of what use is gold that can’t be used to purchase a thing? Maybe I should have smiled more, should have laughed louder, and should not have run away from love. I do not regret not doing these things now because I’ve seen just how important they are. I won’t make the mistake again.

Don’t be hard on yourself. There’s nothing you could have done. I would still have smiled if you asked if I was okay that time. I would, still, have said nothing if you asked me what was wrong one more time. I am grateful for you, for your love, for your silence. I do not expect you to understand. I do not fully understand myself.

I want to tell you to live and do so fully but will you listen? I want to tell you to ask one extra time but what right do I have. Who wants to take advice from someone whose existence was less than that of a grain of sand in the Sahara? Still, I can’t but hope that you listen.

There are no more words left in me. Or perchance I still have a problem with conveying thoughts and emotions to words. Please, disregard the blotches on the paper. I really am happier in this moment. I can break free; I think. It should be different. I have to try.

Live Good. Laugh Louder. Love Deeper.

P.S: If you haven’t read Julius Caesar, here’s Caesar: “Cowards die many times before their deaths, The valiant never taste of death but once.”

-O.

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3 thoughts on “That Piece of Paper

  1. Nice read Uche.
    I guess you we’re trying to portray someone who committed suicide? Who gave a real small piece of invaluable advice.
    Good use of imagery too.
    Well done!

    Like

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