Today was loooooong! It was my rest day from my usual workouts. I planned to stay Indoors but that has never ever worked out for me. I’m glad i went out because a friend became ill and needed my help. I was glad I could be there.
But throughout today, I kept thinking about my friend Frank and my “Jesus Problem” story.
It was a little bit disappointing to come online and find out that no one had missed it. And it made me think again about life, how fleeting attention can be. Die now, and if you didn’t do a good work, people will forget about you. Only your work can speak for you.
As I was pondering these things, a wild flash ran through my mind.
Rain had fallen that day and the floor was messed up. We had been playing ball since 9am in the morning. Why? We were done with exams. Secondary school after exam life was the bomb! However, I wasn’t playing that day. I was in the stands in the company of about 4 babes. We were seeing the games and talking. I enjoyed that part of football a lot! Frank had done his magic on the pitch and was really tired. So he came up to me, and asked for my bottle of water. I gladly gave him; I couldn’t appear mean before the ladies. When we were done, he and I started home. We had a huge convoy of students follow us, and one after the other they trickled out into their respective streets. Eventually the great company of friends was decimated to just two of us — Frank and I. I can’t remember exactly what we talked about, but I remember how I felt. Pity!
Here was a kid with a seemingly perfect life, but he was haunted by the perfection in that life.
Thinking of it now, it seems to me that he was subconsciously revolting. Not against anybody, but against a lie. That revolt was completely misappropriated.
Let me go deeper.
He told me of how he would freeze in the exam hall thinking of the fact that his brother would have done better. How he tried to measure up to his brother.
How he hoped he could be loved like his brother.
How he felt life was unfair to him etc.
Somewhere inside him, he knew those statements were not necessary.
But somewhere else, every external occurrence had taught him to hate his own skin. To believe his brother was better.
He believed a lie so well, that it showed up in his performances.
Frank believed he was so poor at anything, because his brother was better at it.
Looking back now, I do not see why he went through such emotional drama. But he did.
Thinking of it, I began to ask myself simple questions and establish basic premises for judgement in my mind.
I am honestly convinced, fully persuaded, unequivocally vehement in my stand that our definitions of things especially outer things are a product of how we see ourselves.
A young chap like that.
With such brightness of mind.
Yet he defined his world as better than him. Not because that was the actual truth.
But because he saw himself as small….cheap…an after thought. He couldn’t see himself past his blinds.
He couldn’t see that he had the same DNA mix with his brother. Or that he could be better!
3 days ago I got news. Not strange news now that I think of it.
My friend Frank is dead.
Suicide. Yes, Suicide.
It seems he never got out of that shadow.
And as I write this… I see it.
It’s the Jesus Problem.
(To be concluded)