I was full. There was no space left, to realize I was full. I was in bonds, shackled by the chains of my freedom. I was diabetic, yet I couldn’t give up the sweets of the world that killed me.

Like a drawing paper in the hands of an engineer desperate for ideas, I was ruffled. There was no beautiful picture to look upon. It was a cacophony of disjointed lines, dreams without a will. And as I tried to make me beautiful, this drawing pad became more disgusting to look at. For every stroke I made, was without a purpose; every colour I added, resulted in ruins.

As I hung, in the gallery of the world, no one wanted to look at me. I was a sight unworthy of beholding. Rather than laughter, I provoked tears; fears, instead of faith….

Until I saw her, one whose pad was full of light. There were little dents in her, but they made her picture all the more beautiful. She told me of him, the one who made her a new pad. He was always in the gallery.

“How come I have not seen him? “

“You never paid him heed. You always thought he was there to scorn you, and make your life more miserable”, she told me.

While she was yet speaking, he came along. He asked me, “Hi! Will you be my friend? I make new drawing pads.”

It sounded too good to be true. I was scared of being worse than I am, for a few times I had believed some who claimed they wanted to help me. But all I became was an uglier picture.

As though he read my mind,
“Trust me,” he said.
Is there any worse I can get? I thought.

“I’ll be your friend. Please, be my friend.”

He gave me a new pad. And an assurance, “I will make you a beautiful picture.”

And he did. His name is Jesus. Some call him ‘saviour’. I call him my life.

© Favour Michael Ogbue.