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25 YEARS IN FIVE HOURS.

July 2 2017 , Written by The Thinker

Five hours , yes........ five hours is all it took to go through twenty five years of life, and halfway through the five hours, it seemed like I had nothing to show for it. Today is a Sunday and in a few hours, I will have to wake up and take a shower and leave, and yet , I am typing away at 2:14 in the morning. Yes, I have not slept, and yes I probably will not have slept even then, but the thoughts in my mind are too important to be allowed to vanish into the world of dreams where they may never return unless they find that subconscious tunnel back to the mind. 

So here is a story of 25 years scripted into five hours of thought. How many more months to December? I ask myself. . . .  I need this year to end. Like all the others, maybe something new will be waiting at the other side of the 2017 page. I would love to leave the rest of the days of this year blank. Just the way I used to skip the pages of my exercise books when I had not finished copying the notes I was meant to write while in  primary school. I want to postpone time, to a time when I am older and wiser and come back and live this year later. But there is no short cut like that in life though. You just have to play the hand that the dealer tables, and oh so often its a bad hand. As it stands, I cannot see a future that seems bright, but deep down, I know I could not see today ten years ago, so maybe there is something good in store.

 I pick up the blade and think, it can not be that painful. In 'thirteen reasons why', it seemed so grim, but if she could do it on both of her hands, then I can too. Well, so go ahead .. .. .. .. then I think, well, that is not really a pause , that is a full stop to this story and what I need is a blank space. An unwritten space, so that I can come back and finish my story. 

Mum is in the next room, in the morning she will wake up to such a mess. NO, I cant do it from my bed, I cant have her clean up after me again, not on my last day. So I walk to the bathroom, its small, the tiles cover the wall like a grocery bag on oily chicken, as if it was meant just for that,keeping the mess away. The mess wont be so much here and even if it is, its cleanable. But Mum is sick, maybe my death will be hers too. She is fragile, too fragile perhaps. Maybe I need to soften the blow, I need to vanish, and do it somewhere, and give her some hope that I may be alive , long enough for her to come to terms with the fact that I may yet be no more. 

I can picture her now, with a baby in her arms, as hairy as she says I was when I was born. The plans she had for me. And just how everything has turned out . She is no longer the lady she was then. Now , she stands tall. A Mother, a Father and a friend. But noooo. ... ... not the kind of friend you tell that you want it to stop. That you wish for a moment, the world would stand still. So I close my eyes, and tears roll down my eyes. What if I do not succeed. Can I live with those consequences. You know, I care too much about what people think. One mistake , just one, and everything crumbles. Life . . . . you are too brittle, too fragile too. . . It takes a genius to balance you on a spoon and not break you. 

So where did all this start. To be honest, I do not know. An adult has very little memory of what it felt like to be a child, maybe that is what it means to grow up. You leave everything behind. The worry sets back in, I look at my peers and think, well, See how far they have gone, I will never get there. I have been left behind. It is all over now. So let me just end it. 

Then a sad little reminder of the world comes through. They do not have it together too Young man. They do not. They seem to have it together , but you can see it in their eyes. They have nothing, just like you. They are just better than you at hiding it. To be honest, I do not know if that is true, but I hope it is true. How pathetic, I am now wishing misery on everyone. On everything. 

But simple questions still linger in my mind. You see, I am in  a house right now, my mothers house, and I am in university. I am finishing my degree, this is not my first attempt, but I still know, that I never ever dreamed of it. So , should I wait just a little longer and things will get better? 

I think again, about every one. Every person that has ever written me off. I think of the ones who have just written me off, and I am angry, so angry that I think I would drive a knife in their backs, long enough for them to feel the pain before their breath leaves their bodies. How many wrote me off, and where am I right now? I drop the blade, and walk back to bed. Its over now. I tell myself. Its over. . . . Its done, let me face whatever is coming. 

I do not want to face tomorrow. God knows I would rather not, but a wise woman said , that even when you do not want to , you just do. So now, I start. I just do. I will keep on doing until it is all done. Then I will see who will be laughing then. Time, is a friend and time . . . is on my side this time. So dear world, I challenge you again, bring on your worst and I will pick up that blade again and rip you to shreds. You can not have me now and you will never have me tomorrow. 

Look at all those who dared defy me, not by my power or by my might, they have nothing to say now. So woe unto you who write me off. You have not seen the last of me yet. One to 25 I am still walking on, I can see 26 clearly. This time, it will not slip away. 

 

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