The Day I Died…

The day I died… the sky… I don’t remember what the sky looked like because I was inside the room. But I remember the temperature. As the walls exhaled, the rays of the sun sipped in, baptising my body and mind in sweat. For days, I had been haunted by questions without answers. I had been trying to make sense of the sudden doubt that had struck me like a thunderbolt in the dry season. My mind was weighed down by stress, but at least, I still had some sense left to make. I was even optimistic that things would work out, somehow. In fact, I could still muster up an appetite for white morsels and steaming egusi soup. Maybe it wasn’t all bad. It was all bad. The WhatsApp message came through. Each word I read landed cold and steely. By the end, there were frosty holes in my chest. I imagined my eyes bleeding out my life force, and that wouldn’t have been too dramatic, because honestly, I died. I didn’t cry. There was a gap in my mind but I didn’t cry. I continued the meal in silence, bracing myself for the pain slowly seeping into me. I read the death sentence just once, but carefully, very carefully, then never went back to it. I learnt my heart had bones because they all broke. That was August, 2025. That was the worst month of that year, and while the year continued into September, October, November, and December for others, I was stuck in August, repeating itself over and over again. I have been frozen in time, moving but never getting “there”: The house decays; the floors are flooded dusty; the curtains heave with spider webs; the bedsheets are brown and rumpled; the clocks stop ticking. I now understand Miss Havisham. I understand how it feels to be a valueless stone discarded by someone who once carried you like a diamond. My mood swings recklessly by the hour, falls, bruises its body, continues swinging as if nothing hurts. The emotions come and go - anger, disappointment, hope, desire, hopelessness, pessimism, reflectiveness, angst, nihilism, depression (you can see me in that corner folded against myself), anxiety (you can see me wandering aimlessly in the small space), positive and negative energies that are never stable. It is clear to me that there is a wound in my spirit and mind, stretching endlessly into seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, slowly becoming a full year. What happened? How did I end up here? How long before I finally hit the bottom of the abyss? How do you hate someone you love and love someone you hate? What is it about my perception that made me vulnerable to her? Why do I remain consumed by someone who decided to leave? These are some questions that still echo in my head. And maybe you have similar questions. I must warn immediately that I have no definite or convenient answers, only a journey into the abyss of my mind. I don’t know where it will lead but this is where we begin: As one inclined to daydream and ponder things, I intend to philosophise heartbreak, drawing on my experience and relevant perspectives from philosophy. If you are hurt, curious, or sadistic, you can come along and see where this ends. The day I died, Cupid was a black-hooded figure wielding a scythe

Referral Earning

Points-to-Coupons