The Suicide Note of 'Insert Name Here' By Ope Oduwole
The first time I tried to commit suicide I was ten. I remember it so vividly. I was standing in the middle of my kitchen holding the kitchen knife to the center of my chest. The sharp knifepoint was twiddling the fabrics of my grey T-shirt as I thought. The image is so clear but my thought process at the time was so blurry (well at least that’s how it seems retrospectively). I have no idea why I wanted to do it, or why something like that is even seen as possible to such a young person, but I stood there- with that certainty and conviction for a long time. Uninterrupted silence was the only company I had. It obviously ended with my younger self, putting the knife back in the stand on the side of the counter and walking away unscathed. I probably got bored and wanted to play PlayStation or something as trivial as that.
I only found out suicide was a sin when I was sixteen, before that I just assumed it was selfishness. According to strong Christian values, suicide is seen as playing God. Who are we to play the role of the creator and destroyer? After all, suicide is a form of murder. I knew for a fact I didn’t want to die a murderer. It went against the elements of the disposition I was so fond of. It was also interesting to find out my morals resonated with Christianity, always thought Jesus saw my name on His list and just shook his head, in all forms of disapproval. Moving on swiftly, I consciously nurtured the kind and generous side to me but in contrast, I forgot to acknowledge the problems that I had. It was naive of me to think they would vanish if I ignored them for long enough. It could just be a case where I haven’t ignored them for long enough, but I’m running out of the time I wish I didn’t have anymore. We all have something wrong with us to a certain extent. Right? It can’t just be me. Honestly, if it is only me, it clarifies vast periods of my life, especially now. Although, If I had a penny for every time I hear “I’ve been clinically diagnosed with depression” or, “my therapist said that…” Let’s just say I would have more money than I currently do. Events in life fluctuate and people have different thresholds to the pain that is inflicted upon them in these circumstances. The scenario may vary and maybe cause different levels of pain, or pain may manifest in a different form; but pain is still present. The life I had up until the age of sixteen wasn’t too tasking. My family was the lowest possible form of dysfunctional with no pets or creepy relatives. I was thankful enough to live in a nice house with parents and siblings who cared for me. I had friends who cared for me. Although it seems I am writing through the lenses of rose-tinted glasses, this age became the turning point in which can only be described with the taboo phrase (almost as famous as Macbeth) “What could possibly go wrong?”
If you haven’t already figured it out, I am going to kill myself.