I tell you sometimes the moon is too weak to be full.

Like you, I am tired of waking up to news of death.

So many broken children living in grown bodies mimicking adult lives.

I am too full of life to be half-loved.

Start now. Start where you are. Start with fear. Start with pain. Start with doubt. Start with hands shaking. Start with voice trembling but start. Start and don’t stop. Start where you are, with what you have. Just... start.

The womancarried herselflike Godworshipped her body.Even the devilwill pray for her forgivenessat the holy sight of her.

I have pasts inside me I did not bury properly.

I told the priestmy god is a black womanhe poured holy water on meand scheduled me for an exorcism

The day your education makes you roll your eyes at your father. The day your exposure makes you call your own mother uncivilized, the day your amazing foreign degrees make you cringe as your driver speaks pidgin english, may you never forget your grandfather was a farmer from Oyo state who never understood english.

Survive...Some women surviveby creating walls,big walls guarding their heartsand you say"let them in"butshe has been covered in regrets,crawled on all fours for her salvation.Dont curse themfor when her attacker camethere she was, loving, nowshe has built her wallsbrick by brickguarding against parasitesDon't blame herSome women are broken,not ready to be healed,some women are brokennot ready for loveand that's all right.Let her find herselfLet her become her own sunLet her