The day I will kill myself I would not like to ask you to come to my burial I know you loved me I know I meant the world And I will have caused you pain like you never had But sadly, you have to come Because if you don’t there will be no one And the attendants in the morgue will throw me to the rats. Just one last selfish act. ~Sichach

The room was quite dark, almost empty, just me and my laptop lying on my bed. I stand up and walk to the door and silently lock it almost as if I am afraid someone will knock and I have to let them into my sty. I sit down and look at my phone,27 missed calls, mum is calling but the phone just goes off. I am relieved. I walk to the toilet and look in the mirror. I almost cannot reconcile I am the same person looking back. Perhaps I should be done with it. What right do I have to think I deserve to be here? To think I am special? To speak my mind? hell to even exist. I am getting cold. I wear a sweater, sit down on the bed, staring at the wall for a few minutes then check if the noose I have tied is functional enough, It is. I guess we all know how my story ended but this is not moral to this story. I can attest since my Russian roulette with death I am Perceived as more interesting, people call me crazy to my face which is a good thing in this century. All the mental health campaigns have washed off some of the stigmas, and the rappers with coloured hair and face tattoos have made it cool. I am lucky to live in a century that mental health is bling as opposed to being committed to an asylum.

This, however, creates a conundrum, For Every Billie Eilish ( a manifestation of the 21st-century angst, I find her pretty authentic ) there are ten Jared Leto Suicide Squad Jokers Tattoed Damaged across the face like its a brand name because it is. The marketing of mental illness as being Edgy. Maybe an American 2016 pop culture reference may not be the best example of Kenya but give me a break we as a people are Americanised too a point we can call each other Nigga just because. My point, however, is that the good intentions of sensitizing people on mental health issues ended up being capitalised and as people found a way to make money from it quickly became a trend. The existence of Instagram did not help, all these rich emo kids could purchase the fitting aesthetic saying they are depressed yet talked of voices in their heads and chilling with their demons, which are very textbook Schizophrenia traits. This had the effect of branding mental health issues in this case as rich kid problems, rich kids seeking attention and if you are poor there is a probability that was the situation and as we make a full circle on this My friend who found me on that day perhaps wore a facade of care and worry as he was telling another friend something in the lines on how worried they are about me but deep down it is fascinating to know a clown, like all circuses it takes the freaks to participate alongside the audience for a freak show. I had the aesthetic already, I had a few privileges. My only worry is however is a cry for help on the stage will be confused as part of the performance until it's too late.

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