The mental ripper (a suicide story)

By; Ogundare Feranmi.

"Hello! Hey! Dang it!", I slammed my fists down hard on the table as the line went dead, tears clouding my eyes as my bruised knuckles trembled. That was Greg giving me the bad news, Caesar Technologies had finally decided to let go of my project, they were done after the fourth trial. Years of hard work, thousands of dollars spent, and a 40-second phone call had ended it all. The agony and pain tore at me, stabbing at my insides. It was chilly outside, but I felt hot, beads of sweat forming on my forehead as my heart started racing faster. 

Beside me were the divorce papers, Anita was done too after 3 years of marriage. 'I don't really know where your priorities lie, but you need to fix yourself and stop chasing that damned project!' Those were the words that rolled off her lips the day she left the house. I sank to the floor and cried, my world was crashing and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. My wife, the love of my life was gone, my career was over, and I was deep in debts totalling $276,000. There was no bouncing back from that, not for me though. 
I dragged myself up and walked over to where Anita used to keep her pills. I picked out some bottles and scanned them quickly. Psychoactive...antidepressants...sedatives, I just needed something to do the job. 

I poured literally all the pills unto my palm, grabbed a bottle of Scotch and gulped them down. I sat at the table and kept drinking the Scotch until the drugs started to kick in. Pain, dizziness, regret, signs of my impending death. I crashed to the floor in the last moments, foam bubbling out of my mouth as the chemicals squeezed the life out of me, my eyes closing as I descended into an endless darkness. 

According to WHO, one person commits suicide every 40 seconds! Your mental health is not a joke! Get help, talk to someone!


Ogundare Feranmi is a writer and can be contacted via;