I Spent Two Years Pretending to Be Fine While Planning How to End My Life in Aba

This was back in 2021, I was 27 and had just lost my tailoring shop in Aba main market after a fire razed everything. I had no savings, no insurance, nothing. My mother kept calling from the village asking when I would send money for her high blood pressure medication. I kept saying next week, next week, next week.

Every morning I would wake up, put on a smile, go to my friend's shop to help him sew for free, and laugh at his jokes. Inside, I had already planned everything. I knew which bridge on the Enugu-Port Harcourt expressway had the best drop. I had written a note and kept it inside my Bible, between Psalm 23 and 24. I never told a single soul. Not my pastor, not my best friend, not even my mother.

What stopped me was something small. One evening, I was walking home and a little boy selling pure water ran after me shouting, 'Uncle, you forget your change!' He was maybe eight years old, barefoot, selling water at 7pm. He gave me my 50 naira balance and ran back. I stood there and just cried. That boy had more integrity than I had will to live. I went home, tore the note, and started talking to God properly for the first time in years.

I am still here. I am not completely fine, but I am here. The shop is back, smaller than before but it feeds us. If you are reading this and you have thought about it, please talk to somebody. I know we Nigerians don't do that. But talk. Even if it is just one person. That boy's 50 naira saved my life. You never know what small thing will save yours.