50 SHADES OF PINK

Hello dear readers,

My name is PINK.

I thought I should share a little about my life. Perhaps it would unfair to think that I am the popular american pop star. Anyways, I have titled this short story FIFTY SHADES OF PINK. I would love you to put yourself in my shoes and only then will you be able to help me. I really need all the help I can get. 

It’s been going on for too long and the road seemed to be getting shorter for me. I have been suicidal for a couple of weeks and it’s a big miracle than I am still hanging on. Maybe it’s just a little while before I give up? Maybe it’s just a short time from now before the world knows what I plan to do?

But whatever the outcomes is, it’s very bad that nobody knows that I am in a messed up shape – it’s only a matter of time before I burn to ashes.

Some people would describe hell as a burning fire that never goes out. Some other people would go on to say that when we dwell in our misery, we are indeed in our little self-induced hell. Whatever your opinion on hell is, it would interest you to know that I am in some kind of hell that nobody wants to see an enemy in.

I have the perfect body that one would kill for. Ladies want to be me and guys want to have me. Even the good guys that fall in the category of puritans would steal a stare or two and get a good hold of a mental picture. It has always been my strong point to be the envy of many people, but little did they know that I was dying inside.

My voice is as sleek as a nightingale’s and one could literally feel the touch of soft silk when the sound my mouth produces vibrate against their skin.

Many people have attended shows that I featured in and have sworn that they would be damned to miss other editions.

People weep and spur up emotions of love and relief whenever they hear me sing. I even listen to myself through the records that were kept of the shows and marveled at the consistence of a high pitch. I leave people crying like babies and very little could be done to stop or pacify them.

I have been termed an “angel” – I wish they knew I wasn’t happy inside.

One thing people seldom suspected about me was the fact that I was an addict.

I ingested all sorts of drugs, both substances that didn’t have permission and the ones I lured doctor- friends to permit.

They often told me that I was a ticking time – bomb and that I needed help but insisted i used private help as it would save my reputation.

One certain doctor- friend that decided to help me from my addiction eventually fell deeper than myself and wrecked his career – I blame myself for what happened to him even though he said he just wanted to have a glimpse of how my life felt.

At first, he said it was really fun, but the latter stories he told reeked of a Junkie in his UNCLEAN state.

Right now, I sit on THIRD MAINLAND BRIDGE in Lagos, Nigeria holding my head in my hands. People say it is perhaps the longest bridge in West Africa. People say all sorts of things and very many people open their ears to hear, but only a handful are listening.

I sit on the bridge and wonder if my story would be told after I am long gone.

I try to be a Christian as often as I can even though I seldom go to church and the few times I am in the church compound, I am never really there.

People always want to sit close to me and echo in my ears how they would like to take a picture with me at the end of the service.

I won’t be surprised if people went to church and hoped that I came. I won’t be surprised if all the organizers want is the contribution I make to the church activities. I won’t be surprised if they don’t care whether my soul perishes, and frankly I don’t blame them.

Why should I blame them when the first instinct of man is survival?

Why should I blame them if they decided to take their survival a little too close to greed?

Why should I blame them when they definitely came into the world and met all the bad and negative things that thrive these days?

So you see? I don’t blame them.

I blame myself though for my addiction. I blame myself for wanting to commit suicide.

But maybe I should look at the bright side – I am still alive. And I can still decide not to take my life.

But the one question that seems to give me a hard time is:

NOW THAT I HAVE THIS RESOLVE TO LIVE, WHAT WILL I DO WITH MY LIFE?

PLEASE HELP ME?

culled from www.infomaniamag.com
Twitter: www.twitter.com/infomaniamag  |  @infomaniamag.com
facebook: www.facebook.com/infomaniamag