HARMATTAN

 

Today, I thought of ending it all. I thought of pouring the tip of the rat poison bottle down my throat before the seasonal events start—the non-stop parties, bad decisions, family reunions, and the cascade of new year resolutions. The loud laughter at dining tables with large plates and tall cups of tea.

I contemplated falling in love again before the sides begins to flip—the late replies, cheating, bad sex, the race, fights, heavy tears, and the inevitable regrets of falling again

I pondered starting something anew—perhaps a business, a non-profit, or a provision kiosk in front of my house, or even a poultry—before 20 daily customers turns to 2. Before the complaints rolls in, before it became redundant, and the frequent questions about "what else will you do to make it lively."

I considered reconciling with you, sending an email detailing everything that happened or is still happening. Confessing and finding my way back to you, anticipating a one-minute relief, your acceptance, and the promise that you'll be here. This is just before you begin to question my resolve, my process, realizing I wasn't worth it after all, and the frequent question, "Can I trust you again?"

I thought of trusting my best friends with everything. Pondered making the call, admitting that I haven't been good in past months, letting it all out in the hope that admitting will heal everything. This is before they grow weary of my unending circles, not understanding where I am coming from, or acknowledging that my feelings are valid.

I considered living again, giving today a chance. Basking in the weather, driving to the pool, letting the water swallow my head, breathing heavily and panting because I almost lost my life. Emerging from the water as though I have no problems at all, moisturizing my dry skin with oil, and adorning my rusty lips with gloss.

Today, I choose to live.