There was a time around 2015 when everything was really devastating. At that point in life, everything was hard as hell.
On the eve of July 205, everything was really terrible. I was broke as hell, I had amassed debts and bills were thoroughly coming at me in all corners. For a moment, I contemplated suicide, running away, deleting all my social media accounts. To be honest, everything that came by didn’t really mean a thing, I was going through the toughest times of my life.
I had last eaten a decent meal at a conference that was like two weeks ago and I looked malnourished. Everything around me didn’t really make sense and I sort of broke ties with those close to me. I was going through the hardest of times.
As everything happened, my neighbors in the ghetto wondered if I had no family, no mom or dad, no relatives to come to my rescue. Everything was going down the ruins and while I had hope everything was going to work out eventually, I was filled with PRIDE too; a cancer that killed me on the inside.
On that evening, a huge knock landed on my one roomed door scaring the hell out of me from slumber. The landlady who now had not seen her rent for five months wanted it or else I simply walk out of her house with nothing.
My heart raced, my palms got moist, my lips got dry and cracked. At that instant, I was at God’s and the Landlady’s mercy. I pleaded to no heed and eventually, I was locked out. All my friends were not that well off to come to my rescue. To cut the whole story short, I called my then boss who sent me something right away and I calmed the lady down.
Those days are the days to remember. Today I look back and never want to be the guy I was. Man, those days were lethal.