Diary of a Nigerian Blogger Short stories


The raindrops fell lightly.Staining the square-shaped window.As I took the knife from the top of my pillow.I closed my eyes as I let myself feel the blade,It was cold, just like my life.I stayed on the floor for what seemed like an hour,before looking at the sharp edges of the blade. It glistened like it had never been used before,but I knew it had already been used. The scars are proof.

I looked out the window and saw two women laughing and holding each others hands,the older one was holding a blue umbrella, shielding the both of them. I didn’t notice the tears flowing.

I shuddered and thought of taking my blanket,but I didn’t, even though I was so cold. What is the point? I thought.

I thought of writing a letter to each person that had driven me to this,but I knew they wouldn’t feel anything, there was no point.

The memories began to flash in my head. The moments when I used to be happy,the moments I would cry,the moments they would say the hurtful things they say, the moments they would mock me for expressing and telling them how I felt,the moments they would be nice whenever they needed a favour, the moments they would make me feel small in front of others,the moments they told me to die.

I looked through the window again,the rain had started falling heavily,the trees were moving and a branch was hitting my window. This was supposed to be my cozy,happy moment.

I looked at the knife again,and sighed. I am ready.

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