Now Reading
A Life of No Colour

A Life of No Colour

They say to err is human and to forgive is divine. I really want to meet the genius that came up with that. What is divine about forgiveness? I wonder if that person has ever been hurt to his soul by the one he loves the most. I wonder if he has ever been betrayed by the one he holds so dear. I don’t think so because if he has ever felt that wrenching pain of hurt, he will not tell me that to forgive is divine.

I know you must be thinking I am a bitter person. I am not. Well, I wasn’t. Life taught me how to be cold…how to protect myself from being vulnerable. Love is for weak people in my books. It just creates a window for people to hurt you. The larger that window is the more you put yourself at risk. It doesn’t matter whether you agree with me or not but that is the truth.

How did I get on this path? Do you want to know? I will tell you. Grab your popcorn and drink.

It was more than 10 years ago. There I was under the shadow of the one that supposedly birth me. I say supposedly because I refuse to believe a woman who gave birth to you can cause you so much pain. I refuse to believe that a woman who went through the pain of labor can watch you as you shriek in pain at the intensity of her heavy-handed beating. Maybe I’m wrong. After all, there is something called tough love.

I think that was when the transition began to happen. Life was not so colourful anymore. In fact, it was more of a monochrome, tilting more towards black than white. I dreaded every new day. The light always caused me to remember the pain I felt inside. It put the spotlight on the scars that were over my body. It made pity-filled eyes gawk at me as I walked through the corridor at school. I truly hated myself. I just wanted to vanish. What happened to that blissful child that was only concerned about playing with the neighbour’s children? Well, she’s long gone and I don’t think that she will ever return.

When the pain was too much for me, I contemplated suicide. No one would miss me when I’m gone. Daddy was too far away to care. Mummy obviously didn’t care and my sister, well, she won’t flinch one bit at the news of my death. I came so close to taking my life. If fear ever had a benefit in my life, it was preventing me from transitioning to ghost mode. As I took the chemicals from my laboratory set, an innocent gift turned an accomplice in death, I thought about the world that I was leaving behind. I remembered the tears I shed last night. Mummy had called me useless because I made a little mistake. She said I was just like my father. She hit me…over and over. I’d had enough. It was just better for me to leave this world.

Fear stopped me in my tracks. As tired as I was of this life, fear stopped me from swallowing those poisonous salts. I wanted a quick and painless death. I hate pain you see. These salts will cause me great pain before easing me into the world of the dead. I’ve suffered in life. Must I suffer in death too? I lay still on my bed. Breathing heavily…up and down the breath went. Sadly, the pain did not come out with every breath I let out.

The next morning was tough. I woke up to the look of disgust on my mother’s face. Why did God allow me to be born? She mouthed some words as she drove me to school. I didn’t hear. I had drifted off to my haven. My imaginary friend was waiting for me there. She was glad that I didn’t take my life. But I would have gone to be with her right? She didn’t think so. I got out of the car wondering when this routine life will be over. I knew something was going to cause me to be beaten when I got home. I just didn’t know what it was yet.

I step into my class giving my classmates cold stares. Cruella Deville, they called me. I didn’t care. Then this strange but yet familiar face came to my desk. He smiled as he asked me how I was doing. He said he tried to call me the day before. Can he just get just lost? Why does he keep bothering me? He says he likes me. That’s a laughable thought. What’s there to like about fat ugly old me? My mother never failed to remind me of how ugly I looked. She even said it this morning as I twirled in front of the mirror. “See this ugly baboon prancing in front of the mirror. What are you admiring? Please go and do better things and leave the mirror for prettier girls”, she said. Her words didn’t sink. I had become used to them. I believed them.

He won’t go away. I can’t stand this small talk. I walk away. I hear the guys laughing as I close the door to the class. I go underneath the stairs. I stare into the blank space. I didn’t know when the tears began to flow. I couldn’t stop them. I didn’t want to cry. “Crying is for weak people”, daddy always reminded me. I didn’t want to be weak. No. I’m a strong woman. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up. It was him. He was like an angel. He wiped my tears with his hands and pulled me close. He never said a word. He just hugged me tightly. I could feel his heartbeat, in sync with mine. And there and then, I knew he felt my pain. I pulled away from him and looked into his eyes. For the first time in five years, life began to have a different colour.

© 2019 The W Community. Powered by Access Bank.
All Rights Reserved.

Thanks!

Loan Calculator

Check your eligibility for the Access Bank Maternal Health Service Support (MHSS) and W-Power loans here.

Remove Highlight
View Highlighted text
Highlight Text
Add Comment
Add Comment
Loading...
Cancel
Viewing Highlight
Loading...
Highlight
Close
Login

Signup

Forgot Password