This was the start of a life I wasnít going to share with anyone. A life I knew would come to a halt soon, a life I was not ready and strong enough to put up with. Everyday felt like the continuation of the misery I had woken up to that fateful date at the clinic. In short my fate was deathÖ. a young girl whose future was wrecked. I hated myself so much. I didnít feel good enough or even worth of anything. No day passed that I didnít curse the day I was born. It was me against this HIV in me and all the emotions I felt deep inside me

I closed the outside world from my space. I chose to keep to myself and just spend the days left on my own. Taking drugs was the other mountain. They were many pills, they were big and bitter and most of all the side effects were massive. At some point I felt there was no use of taking the meds since I was going to die after all. So I would take my pills hide them under my tongue and throw them after am out of my parents presence. They were just too much and I couldnít take it anymore.

Inside I felt so empty and lonely. I felt broken and lost in my own self. I would breakdown anywhere at anytime. I was so convinced that the same way it had taken my mum there was no way it would spare me. No one actually made me feel less but somehow I made myself feel unwanted and unloved. I hated school, I hated home, I basically hated places where people would show concern for me yet they didnít know how exactly it felt.How torn and broken I was deep down.

I was never going to get someone to love me atleast not with my HIV. Hence there was no way I would have a family. As each day passed, the weaker I grew and the sickly I became. The next thing happening was Tuberculosis (TB). By now I was convinced death was on its way and my time had come. I remember I was 14 years when I first got TB, and I remember vividly I weighed 18 kgs at that time. I donít know what to compare myself to but it was alot to take in at that time. From causing my parents sleepless nights with my weezing and chest pains, to spending almost two months in hospital. This TB had taken a toll on me than even my biggest concern.

So I slowly recover after being put on medication for six months, then as usual I never adhered to the drugs so boom TB reoccures again and this time it puts me inches to my grave. I was administered injections for 2 good months, 60 injections, one everyday. For those of us who fear injections here I had no choice, it was either the injections or a committe to make my burial arrangements. It had gotten to that. Every injection ment pain. By this pint I had just given up on life. My parents were emotionally, financially and physically drained. I remember this one time my dad staring at me at the hospital bed and just shedding tears. I had never seen him breakdown and that just broke me.

This man had made sacrifices for me. He spent sleepless nights running around with me so that I would get medical attention. He had not given up on me yet I had already given up everything. I just wanted to die so that he would rest and be relieved. I had cost him so much and I felt I didnít deserve all the care and concern. So this night I decide to end this life for my one self since God was taking time and I was growing impatient

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