Throwing in the towel

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There would always be a time in life when throwing in the towel seemed the wisest thing to do, especially when one was caught in an excruciating situation like he was. He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day.

If there was one thing that remained in his hazy memory about life in high school, it was that saying. Etched on the portion of the wall right above the chalkboard of his classroom, he would always lose focus of the teacher's explanations, and rather ponder over the mystery behind who made that inscription on the wall and how long they must have made it. Perhaps, those pensive moments were to blame for his woeful performances in high school.

Nevertheless, that saying had become his lifelong mantra. Thanks to it, he had mastered the art of backing out of things whenever faced with seemingly overwhelming odds. First, he had had to take a longer route to school every morning because some guys always lurked at the corner of the shorter route to bully him. In another instance, he had been coerced to give up on his local government chairmanship ambition after receiving anonymous letters of death threats. Then also, when he went through a divorce with his wife, he had easily let go of his right to custody of their two children because he thought he stood no chance of winning the case. Now, here he was, pitched against the worst bully ever, depression.

This time around, his adversary was not asking him to surrender the right to take a shorter route like everyone else or a political ambition or even a case in court. Rather, he was being asked to surrender his will to live. Over the years, his fortune in life had tragically dwindled. As if it was a spell, his multimillion naira furniture business, which he had spent the most of his years building had crumbled all of a sudden, so did his marriage. And today, the last thing that served as a memento of his once successful life had been taken away from him.

"Sir, you have until 4pm to vacate this premises as it is now an asset of the bank," one of the bank staff who had come to seize his house, which was the collateral for the loan he took to salvage his business, had said to him in the morning.

That was the final straw for him. He could not take the humiliation anymore. Living was now a battle he could no longer fight. He had fought enough, and now he would just run away and come back to fight another day. He believed in reincarnation, after all.

So he was on his way to end his life. Depression had won. Pulling up his car by the edge of a deserted dirt road, he got out, opened the car's trunk and brought out a rope and a round stool with which the deed was to be done. Then he plodded into the bush by the side of the dirt road, in search of the perfect tree branch. After about five minutes of rambling in the bush he found a branch that would do, and then began to knot an end of the rope into a noose. When he was done, he climbed on the stool, tied the other end of the rope to the tree branch and wore the noose around his neck. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily. A minute passed. Then two. three. Four. And when the count was ten, for the first time in his life, he realized just how big of a coward he had been. Climbing down, he decided against not throwing in the towel. He would fight to the end this time.

Bottom line
No matter sadness you're going through in life, taking your life doesn't make it easier. Never give in to defeat, never give in to depression. Say no to suicide!

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First published here by me

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