You tried to kill me.
But thank God that I’m alive and I can laugh in your face because I’m in the process of defeating you.
You’re such a coward, attacking me when I was at my weakest, knowing very well that at my strongest, you wouldn’t stand a chance against me.
It’s funny how you capitalize on bad times in one’s life to unleash your cold-bloodedness.
When there’s death, you’re there.
When there’s loss or hurt, you’re there, growling like a hungry lion, eager to devour.
Do you know what you did to me?
You took the little life and hope I had left.
You told me that I was null and void, lacking in identity, significance, and purpose.
You shrouded my world with the black cloud of abandonment and hopelessness, bringing along your best friend Suicide to finish off your dirty and brutal job killing, stealing and destroying.
In fact, your bestie Suicide had the audacity to pay me a visit.
Approaching me with care and tenderness, s/he encouraged me to drive my car off a nearby cliff, saying that this was the only redemption from heartache.
I was tempted. What I was offered was enticing.
But I was too tired to get out of bed and into my car.
I had a few people who would miss me. My death would leave my parents shattered because they would’ve felt like they failed me. My friends and colleagues would be left wondering what went wrong with me because I was always smiling around them.
You even called God a liar when I asked Him to save me. You told me that He is just an illusion, just like joy, contentment, and love.
You have no shame depression.
And I must admit that I am partly to blame for being ensnared by you.
I gave you the time of day.
I actually believed you.
I’m livid to the point where I want to punch you in your invisible face. I regret letting you in to wreak havoc in me.
I’m emerging victorious from the clutches of your life-sapping slavery.
Every day is a battle.
I have to choose to either listen to you, which is the easier option because you’re familiar, or to listen to the Giver of Life as He speaks truth, purpose, and joy into my life.
I choose life – an abundant and fruitful life.
So, fuck off.
I’m no longer your puppet.
Return to your place in hell.
You’re done… you’re dusted… you’re finished.
My word is final.
*cover image from Destroy The Hairdresser.