Valentine's day gone haunting

...of course I was tired of abiding by the rules. Fed up to the back teeth of being a butt of all girls jokes, and sick of being called a bookworm or a nerd everytime I passed in the school's corridor. I was tired of all that, so I decided to set my own rules, live my own life and do things my way, and not the pastor's way, because I thought I knew it all. I thought my decisions were never going to lead me astray or one day come to haunt me. I wanted to prove to the pupil of North Hill that I can be a bad girl too. I can walk around in the corridor wearing a 3cm pulled-up skirt too.

It all started with not doing homeworks, to arriving late for almost every class while reeking weed from my half combed hair to my unpolished school shoes. I visited the principal's office more often because my teachers were almost all fed up to the last degree with both my behavior and reprimanding me. My Mom got to a point where she (for the first time in her life) wanted to kick me out of her house because I was slowly turning to a berserk kid gone worse. I even remember the nights I'd hear her praying and asking God to drive out the demon that entered her daughter, but nevertheless, I cared less because I was blinded by the luxury of being called North Hill's "hottest" girl. I didn't know that one day my actions will live effects that will forever be part of my life. I didn't know that the demon my mom once prayed for to leave me in the name of Jesus, would eventually leave a stain of regret in the name of pain.

A few months down the drain, I became a bookworm gone wild. 17 and pregnant, I thought I was grown. I still remember every detail of the night my life altered with no available chance or possibility of return. It's now six years later, and I still remember every incident of the Valentine's day of February 2015. I was sure I could handle everything that night, until he dragged me to the lonely toilets. The more I tried to resist with my virginity and stop him from unzipping his jean, the more I felt like a retarded kid throwing ice cubes at the sun. He kissed me until I forgot we were in the males toilets. He kept on pursuing and insisting to undress me until I forgot what I had promised my mother and pastor; that "I'll never have sexual intercourse before marriage." Speaking of my mother, I'd be lying if I'd say she never warned me of the consequences of not keeping your promises with God. I would be telling a blatant lie if I'd say pastor T. Matthews never warned me about boys, and I would be deserving a death penalty too if I would say lady Zanetti whom I used to usher with at the pastor's Church didn't always tell me that books come before boys because boys bring babies. I remembered all of these promises I once made to myself, and more especially the advices I got from my pastor to my mother, but it was too late to put them into practise because the stranger I just met at the party had finished undressing me, kissing me, taking my virginity and guess what... I

was left drunk, smelling alcohol from my eyelashes to my pink mini skirt, crying, sad, confused, suicidal, scared of how am I going to explain what just happened to my mom, lady Zanetti, and pastor T. Matthews. Believe me when I say, R.Kelly's if I'd turn back the hands of time song dangled in my mind more than regret of what just happened did, or any other song I've ever listened to.

In one night, my hopes of making it to Harvard university's foyer were shut like a device by a stranger I just met at the party. In one moment, my life goals died a natural death like a foetus inside the womb of a drug addict. In one ejaculation, fertilisation took place and I could feel with all the senses in my body the zygote sneaking and prancing like a snail and an entourage of tortoises inside my fallopian tube.

I'm 23 years old now and the aftermath of February 2015 is as you read this words still haunting me, because my mother passed away due to the heart attack she got when she heard through the grave vine that her only God-given daughter is 3 weeks hiding that she is pregnant. From all the wrong things I've ever done to her, this one topped all. I remembered all she ever did for me, as I cried for more than i can try remembering. I realised then that it's trully true when they say you never value what you have until you miss it. As I sat in her room trying hardly to convince myself that she'll have knock at her door, I remembered when I was 11 years, I once heard her praying in the room I was sitting and crying inside of; and these were the words she uttered out as I heard her earnestly asking God to give her a child:

"Father of Jacob, Moses and Isaac, I present myself before you as humble as I can be. I come to you as dirty of sins as I am, to ask for nothing more than forgiveness and a child. Just like Hannah, I am asking and pleading for a child too almighty mighty. Give me a child and I shall return it to you. If it would be a boy, I'll make him the best example of a God fearing man to ever come out of my womb. If it's a girl I'll make cocksure that no sexual orientation before she gets married in the house of God. If it's twins, I'll raise and love them like Adam and Eve loved and adored Abel and Cain.

Now first put yourself in my Mom's shoes and tell me how would you have felt hearing through the grave vine that your only God-given daughter is 3 weeks hiding that she is pregnant. The child you once promised God with tears that she'll be groomed in his house and will only have sexual intercourse after marriage. How would you have felt hearing that the child you once prayed for and went as far as fasting for turns to disappoint you in every shape, way or form.

Secondly put yourself in my shoes and tell me how would you have felt remembering that your 6 feet deep because-of-you- mother once prayed and begged God for you.

After my Mom's passing, I felt more guilty than a hoodlum that has raped and bludgeoned 6 woman in less than 19 hours, because I know dead well, I was the sole reason behind. It was then I spent most of my days high on almost every type or kind of drug Pablo Escobar ever sold, from all scrums of Heroin to all types of Ectasy, and from kinds of Cocaine to every piece of Halluanogens there is.

It's true when they say God always answers but not in the way we expect, or at our time of expectation, because he  blessed me with the twins I once eavedroped my Mom praying for. This goes to show that it's also true that in as much as he punishes kids for the sins of their parents, he also blesses those kids with the hearts of their parents, meaning our success and blessings are determined by our parents' hearts towards others.

Long sad story short, in less than 2 months after my sad mom's burial, my God-given twins gave up kicking and fighting for their lifes inside my womb due to the amount and high danger of the drugs I overdosed overdosing on.

Now I'm 19 years living and 6 years hating myself, broken, brussed, motherless, lonely, suicidal and childless. 

...actually, I'm planning to refund my sleeping pills for something that's more lethal than a colt 45 in the heart's forehead. I'm in urgent need of anything that can unchain me from the pain of losing my mother whom I still love and the regret of killing my twins before they were even born. I'm in desperate need of anything that can send me away to a world of no agible return, because every February the 14th, the effects keep becoming more deteriorating and hahunting. To dodge and escape the effects, I even went as far as volunteering bribing all the chemists I know off in the world for a pill that can give and offer me the feeling I need; I smoked all the strains of Cannabis from different Jamaican suppliers around the globe I'm trying to escape; I poisoned myself with all the kryptonites a suicidal victim of rape would think of, but unfortunately to my sad surprise, I'm still alive, kicking and reminiscing.

Three people are in the land of no agible return because of me, and I am on the other side still counted among the list of alive people instead of being included as the fourth person in the three that are dead and buried because of me. It officially marks 6 years now since the incident that still haunts me even to this present moment, as I paint down these lines for you to have a clear mind picture of the sorrow that haunts me like it all just happend a second ago. Despite all the regret that has left me empty of any hopes of better days, I still hope that God will forgive me for the many wrong things I've done  under his noes, and to my dear mother and kids, whom I all love to and from the back of my broken and limping heart. 

To those who believe in God, starting from this moment, becareful of two things, what you promise him and what you go to Church and pray for. 

Here's something I'd like to decode in the minds of all the pupil in the world and everybody else; "be yourself, love yourself and don't forget to value yourself too, even if the world smiles everytime you feel down, never look down, look up and always keep your head up like Tupac. And one more last piece of advice before I put down the pen and go drink my nightcaps; never try to change your lane just to please the one judging your driving. Changing who you're just to please  people is like driving on the oncoming lane or throwing yourself in the ocean full of dinocrocs. You don't know what do slay queens deal with or gangs go through, but just because you want to impress those who judge you, you endup deciding joining the crew. This means that sometimes the challenges we face are battles triggered by the trying to being something we not. 

Be yourself man. Be yourself little girl. Be yourself young princess. Be yourself young King. And just like J Cole said, there's no such thing as a life that's better than yours.