I couldn’t even really say the word sex out loud until I was 14. Even then it was whispered, or mimed or camouflaged as “banging” or “IT”. Growing up in a semi-conservative African family, sex was one of those things that no one really wanted to acknowledge or talk about.
I have managed to get my thoughts together, after surviving the agonizing anxiety of the first 2 days of the year. “What are your plans this year? Any resolutions? What do you think needs to change?” Even if (by some supernatural force of nature) I had all these answers
At 16. Heartbreak sounded like a thousand buildings crashing down, a tornado, a countless number of sleepless nights and twisted sheets. An unfamiliar pain and tears coming from places you didn’t know could cry At 20. Heartbreak sounded like a car crash, ambulance sirens, a crime scene filled with broken
My heart is a construction site. It echoes like a drill in my chest Slowly coming apart I sigh deeply Pushing back the tears that have been welling in my eyes for weeks I pace my room Gathering courage to leave it. Everything in here And everything out there Makes
It’s a wonderful thing Having unconventional skin Waking up And making a choice To be different To be more of you than you were yesterday To hold eye contact To not look down To not be intimidated by judgement To be a little free
You have been deteriorating Before yourself That pain you couldn’t figure out before? That was your dreams being ripped out of your heart The suffocating consequence of concerning yourself with other people’s failures Surrounding yourself with small thinkers and small ideas and small men While all this time you