I came across this touching and beautifully witten post and concluded that I must share it with you Insha Allah.
I died. At 18,I passed away. Last night,I prepared for
my advertising class, carefully ironing my pink shirt, I
rehearsed my speech for the practical class. Like
many other people, my whole world revolved round
the school. Chasing the ‘almighty’ first class, the
school was my life. Nothing else. Alas!as I rehearsed
for Aunty Yinka’s class, I paid no attention to the last
day of my life. The last night of my life.
I was young, smart and full of energy. My innocence
and humility caught the attention of most
people.However, I was one ordinary girl. A library
major with no hobbies and a totally dead social life.
Apart from my ever broad smile, I offered the world
nothing else. With no name, fame or my ‘almighty
degree’, I slept and I haven’t woken up. I am never
going to wake up. I am dead.
Confirming my death this Monday morning, the girls
on I-block retired to my room. I heard them calling
my name, screaming and shouting,swinging me back
and forth,pleading with me to wake up. Grief. Pain.
Sadness. I saw it all in their eyes. Too many who
didn’t know me had so much to say. She was too
young and gentle.Too pretty, they said amid tears.
They didn’t stop saying I was too young and pretty to
pass away but in the face of death, aren’t we equal?
On the death list, I have taken my turn!
The news of my death soon spread like wildfire.
People called. They texted, tweeted,put it up on their
facebook walls and personal messages. Some others
took pictures and records of the sad event.
#RIP to the girl that committed suicide. #RIP to the girl who
died in Jaja today. #RIP to the girl that was poisoned…they put it up everywhere. Different stories of the news of my death.
How people came about all these stories is still beyond me!I never considered suicide.I wasn’t sick.Poisoned? No,I wasn’t. My death is still a mystery. A puzzle I cannot solve.
You cannot call my parents! I yelled! The Hall Warden
was already on the phone with them, then I realized I
am in a world of my own. I see the emptiness in the
heart of every single person I left behind. I have been
taken home. No,my body has been taken home. The
tears of the mother, the pain of the father. The
agony of bereaved parents. Just like them, I am
helpless. Cold and immovable.
All my classmates were at Aunty Yinka’s advertising
class. For the fear of losing 10marks,they agreed that
life must go on. People have to die. Just what I would
have done. Sadly,I am the one who is dead, their
lives must go on. I am going to be buried, 6-feet. I
am aware that ants and worms down there will feast
on my pretty young body. How do they bite? Where
shall they begin to eat from? Fear.
I have also read that the Almighty shall request for
the accounts of my short life. When last did I turn to
Him? Did I say my prayers last night? Did I not plan
to read The Book after lectures today? Alas!I did not
know the last time would be the last. I am in fear;
the fear of not finding peace down there.
I am being prepared for my own burial,I am running
out of time to complete this piece. I am going ahead
to the next phase of my life, I hear that all my very
expensive clothes and shoes will be given out. Others
will be burnt. So that everyone can get me out of
their thinking and imagination. I will become history.
I might be forgotten!
Before I drop my pen, I am not sure if I made the
best out my life. All the people I failed to forgive, the
past that I held on to and the future that I thought
was bright! Indeed,I forgot to live all the days of my
life to the fullest. Regrets. Pain. Fear.
I will soon be left with no friends, family, books and
toys. With my account with The Most High, I will be
all alone. I will be buried…SOURCE