Day 8: Pain and Tears

Pain is a harsh reminder of one’s humanness.

It weakens you.

The vulnerability and the tears

Drown you.

From the moment I opened my eyes until now,

I remembered that I would never ever be in full control.

That sometimes I need to stop


Take care of myself


Gain my strength back.

And during that time

I wished that someone would rub my womb

And tell me that I’m ok

Just as I am.

I wanted a hug from you.

And I craved my mother’s lentil soup.

Day 7: Clingy

“My love has abandonment issues.
My love hates sleeping alone.
My love, a clenched fist around your
heart; yes, my love is that terrifying
because it doesn’t know release.
Imagine the moon, how she sets the ocean
free to spill over distant shorelines only to
clutch it back to her chest again and again.
We call this ‘tide’.
We call it ‘gravitational pull’.
My love is like that —
desperate, unapologetic.
Except they don’t write scientific theories
around my love; this swelling in my chest
is too big to be understood.
Big enough to have its own gravity
and some nights, even strong enough
to pull you back into my arms.”

— Anita Ofokansi

“The belief that boys won’t like books with female protagonists, that they will refuse to read them, the shaming that happens (from peers, parents, teachers, often right in front of me) when they do, the idea that girls should read about and understand boys but that boys don’t have to read about girls, that boys aren’t expected to understand and empathize with the female population of the world….this belief directly leads to rape culture. To a culture that tells boys and men, it doesn’t matter how the girl feels, what she wants. You don’t have to wonder. She is here to please you. She is here to do what you want. No one expects you to have to empathize with girls and women. As far as you need be concerned, they have no interior life.”

– Shannon Hale

Day 5 and 6: Farewells and Freedoms


I have the camera now

So I should use it for self-discovery

But I won’t.

At least not yet anyway.

And amongst all the hustle and bustle

And the getting ready to travel,

There were short, half-cold hugs

That should’ve been longer

And warmer


I sleep diagonally now

Because I miss being held at night.

I keep my words to myself

Because I don’t know who else would understand them as you did.

And I plod along.

Placing one foot in front of the other

And pray I come out the other side alive.

Day 4: Boundaries

“Personal boundaries are guidelines, rules or limits that a person creates to identify for themselves what are reasonable, safe and permissible ways for other people to behave around him or her and how they will respond when someone steps outside those limits. They are built out of a mix of beliefs, opinions, attitudes, past experiences and social learning.”

- Wikipedia, the free (but highly unreliable yet so strikingly accurate at this moment) encyclopedia


I drew my lines in the sand with a sharp stick

So there’d be no confusion.

But the elements blew the sand

And washed the lines away.

So what now?

Day 2: In between


Yesterday, shuffle played me heartache and melancholy

And today it played all our songs.

One after the other

And it hurt like mad.

I wore your favourite skirt not knowing I would see you later.

I wore a new colour lipstick because why not.

And I taught a highly opinionated group of students.


Amidst my trying to figure out what this is or where we are, I remembered.

I remembered why you’re my homie.

And it’s always in the little things.

Like how you say left when you actually mean right.

How you alert me to books and coffee

How you move your hands when you talk.


How your eyes get wider when you’re excited and happy.


How you offered me your blue lollipop and I declined.

Because blue is your favourite colour.



And I found me.

I remembered me-

Loner me.

Lurker me.

Smart me.

Happy me.

Curious me-

In a bookshop, drinking wine with strangers.

Bonding over non-conformity.