It was the usual early morning school rush. I woke up with energy anticipating both the on-campus stress and the fun I get when I am with my amusing colleagues. I have made up my mind not to miss GST class. Well, I don’t miss classes not for anything. Even ill health have tried unnumbered tines and failed. I hurriedly prepared though keeping close watch on the time. This time, it seems the old wristwatch was being controlled by external force, it moved faster. I suspended breakfast and took some green coloured Nigerian currency hoping to branch the school cafeteria. Everyone will prefer the school cafeteria; the foods are cheap and the eba looks like Kilimanjaro mountain.
I finally arrived school and immediately located the lecture venue. Locating the class venue wasn’t an issue, the issues was the front seat. I navigated to the front seat and beckoned for space.
The usual strange news like BBC rented to atmosphere. It is true that all students are by-force director of information; both fake, partly fake and true. Results is out! I tried repeatedly to wave it off my head yet it echoed. Then, I knew the information is true. Fear grabbed me. Fear like the one when you’re told of the passing on of a loved one. Intelligent or not, the fear of Results is out is unique.
After the class, I rushed and paid no attention to greetings. My legs could compete with Benz90. The crowd starring at the displayed white papers were too much. I managed to pip through and my eyes like a roaring lion went to and fro scanning the names. At the end of the result checking exercise, I had two Bs, three Cs and four Fs. I had wishes the ground to open and swallow me up.
I quietly and innocently withdrew myself and headed home. I barely took noticed of anything. I was deep buried in thoughts. Could it be family people? Did I not study hard? You are a failure! That horrible disturbing voice I heard repeatedly. I was almost knocked down by a vehicle. In fact, the thought of killing myself set in. Your life is a waste! You’re good for nothing! You will never make it! It was as if a conference meeting was held on my head. How will I tell my parent this? How will my colleagues now see me?
I dust my mind and wiped my tears. My mind was made up. Nothing could change that.
How will I do this? Another question that strucked my mind. Will I hang myself or take SNIPPER? I immediately choosed the later. With my remaining #500, I procude a bottle. Tears began to drop. I wasn’t crying because I will die but what people will say and how hurt my mother will be. That thought I waved.
I dropped my suicide note. It was short and precise. That was just going to be my last writing. “I am sorry daddy and mummy. Please forgive me”. I then decided to utter my last prayers. “Lord forgive me and receive my soul”.
I picked the SNIPPER bottle and opened it. The smell was very disgusting. That wasn’t a problem, I was ready. While praying, Bro. Uche came screaming my name, I rushed to hide the SNIPPER bottle. He said, “there was errors in the results and it has been replaced and you’ve passed all your papers with 3As, 3Bs and 2Cs. I thought he was making jest of me until he showed me from his phone he had snapped. I was lost. Lost in painful joy.
I should have just waited. I should have spoken to someone. I wasn’t a failure because I failed in some courses. I would have killed myself for nothing.