I was angry, as I sipped my way out of the swamp. I was totally useless, unneeded. Even my own peers didn’t care that I was attempting suicide. Can you imagine? This anger, made me crawl faster though. It made me want to be done with life. This pain I was living.I suspected this was my ego at work, but I didn’t care. I was blinded by this rage that would have made me throw my TV to the ground had I being a human being.
This rage that always ammounted to violence and pain mostly inflicted on oneself.At that point, I was sure I would have cut myself in shreds if I had a knife and could hold it. That was how angry I was. It was how much I hated that I had to go through all of this. That I had existed in the first place. It pained me the more when I realized that my absense would not be missed, not even for one second.I would not have minded if I was just mentioned by the other earthworms even in a passing comment as simple as:
“You rememeber that guy that was always full of himself”
“Um, I do recollect someone like that, yes. What about him?”
“I haven’t seen him in a while”
I did not mind even if it was a year later this happened.
“Wait, I remember him telling me, he was going to kill himself, or something equally incomprehendible”
“So he’s dead”
“I would imagine so”
“Did you see that new hole I made?”
“Yes, it’s certainly splendid.”
“Yes, just splendid. Splendid indeed”
I would not have minded. But the truth was, it was never going to happen. No one would remember that I had existed. Not the earthworms, not God. So with this in my head, I crawled and I crawled and I crawled some more, till I got to the tip of my home, where I knew there would be no return for me.
I never felt for once, sad, that I was leaving the swamp. I did feel sad that my life was just a big waste, but I hated the swamp and the dullness it had provided me with. Little did I know that in the seconds that would pass, I would crave for it with all my soul.I forcefully plunged myself onto the hard, dusty and hot ground, that day. The hot sun, already drying up my moist skin. I crawled with all my might. Trying my best to strand myself far away from my comfort zone, as fast as possible, before the heat made me change my mind.
My throat, got dry first. My skin followed. It was dusty with the gritty sand, and parchy from all the intense heat from the sun. Yet I crawled. I pushed forward till it became painful moving any part of my body.The sun did not spare me that day. Heat boiled from under the ground and above me. And I dried up, ever so slowly. At a point, moving became an impossiblitly. There was no fluid to intercept the hard friction of the hot, dry and grimy dust that was in contact with my skin.
I had underestimated my power to sustain for long. I had known, it would be a long and painful death, but I had never suspected it would be as hard as I faced it. The heat burned me in measured waves and I wondered when I would die finally.
I lay there, unmoving, sure I did not have the power to go back, dying ever so slowly.Burning, dehydrating and delirious. I looked up to the heavens and I imagined God shaking his head.
I imagined him saying: This is not what I imagined for you. This was not what I imagined your life would be like. This was not what I planned for you. I did not create you to one day commit suicide. You had a glorious destiny in me. Believe it or not, you are a creature, beautifully and wonderfully made. You did have a purpose to be here on earth. All of my creatures have wonderful destinies, each of those peculiar to the talent I bestowed in him. You were special. You are special.You were not sent here to try and understand me and to calculate the space time continuim.
I did not send you to earth to study my ways and try to predict me and wonder why I made you who you are and why I put you where you are. I did not send you here to try to comprehend all those complexities way beyond your carnal wisdom. I sent you here for a purpose, but you were too busy trying to understand life to discover it.And right there and then, burnt, closer to death than life, waiting for the last seconds of my life to trickle out, I realized I had made a mistake.
A mistake I could not reverse now that I had moved on to the place of no return. A place where all I could do was regret and and say my ‘what if’s’ and ‘if I had known’s. A place where all I did was to beg God not to send me to hell, where I would continue this burning after drying up to death. A place where I wished I had never thought about in the first place.
And then out of the blues–me static and dehydrating to death–I felt the cold drops of rain. God had given me another chance. God had heard me all along. He had worked a miracle, because how was it possible that out of nowhere, the sun shining wickedly, that rain would fall.
Somewhere close by, a man was in his house watching TV when the rain started and even he was shocked. Rain?, he had thought. Why, it was in the middle of a dry spell. A really dry spell and rain was falling, without any warning whatsoever? Lagos was a funny place, wasn’t it?
And as I sucked the muddy rain water into my frayed skin pores, I was just happy to be alive again. I was happy that God had heard me, But little then did I know–I wriggling in the mud–that I would discover that I would have the power to telephatically communicate with humans. Little did I know that God would preserve my life, even in the harshest of situations so that I could meet with human beings and share my story with them and give them hope about life, that if a miserly earthworm like him could find joy in life, how much more, them.