Browsing Category : Write Your Ass Off April

Heal.


I bought rosemary and basil and put them on my windowsill. I keep promising my body more water. I believe in Prince and Lemonade. Healing feels less like a baptism and more like running my fingers along a jagged knife. This post is part of Write Your Ass Off April, a Twenties Unscripted 10-Day Writing Challenge #WYAOApril. I am responding…

Read More »

Ascend.


  A Very Brief Love Letter. Prince Rogers Nelson, As a child, I was supposed to hate you and everything you represented. The gender fluidity, the provoking sexuality, the antithesis of everything I was taught to be. My family clung to Michael and┬árejected you, so naturally, I was drawn. You had the glitter, the extravagance, everything I wanted to be…

Read More »

Love.


No one ever sat me down and told me what healthy, wholesome love looked like. My concept of love has always been based on knowing what it ain’t: my parents. Love isn’t disconnected cable and alarm clocks when you don’t get your way. Love isn’t sequestered dreams and revenge plots, pettiness and microaggressions. Love is not hurting me. When I…

Read More »

Complicate.


There have been a few moments in my life where I have prayed for a mind that functions in lines instead of circles. Lines show progress. Lines get you somewhere. Circles refuse to end, no matter how hard you with the ends would recognize themselves as ends and finally separate. Sometimes my circles meet each other and send me spiraling…

Read More »

Confess.


I confess that I have a penchant for denial and a knack for self-sabotage. I blame my mother. Let me explain. My mother has always classified herself as paranoid, to which I have co-signed the title. Outside of any psychological diagnosis (because we’re Sierra Leonean and don’t do that shit, right?) I always could feel the tension my mother had…

Read More »