Yesterday, the play  premiered , I being the main character and while all this was happening  I stood aside and watched, for the better part took the lead role, silenced the thoughts in my head , drowned my words in quick gulps of water or wine,  stifled any voice that attempted to reason and blurred my surroundings. I took center stage .

Today I woke up , here I am standing in-front of the mirror:

I take along deep look at my self and slowly play back that conversation.They think that having written all I had shared, I was looking for an avenue to bitch they said . I had thought that they being closest to me, having seen me go through this journey, were best placed to understand the need better yet the purpose for  what I chose , but how wrong was I ,  and listening to them again made me realize that if I let them , then this , what they had shared with me would be their representation of what I have so far fought, to relay. Listening  to Chimamanda´s talk on a single story , in her words, in the face of a story  we are all left impressionable and vulnerable and that the default position is almost always automatic. Important question to ask , what is your single story of a person or a place?

You see the problem with women is, we, over everything else are never transparent enough with each other . The simple fact that in the face of other women we deny each other the freedom to be imperfect. You see at the end of the day, I am what I believe  to be  , not what they say. As far as I know , the truth belongs to you alone , no -one-else.

at the edge -alone

at the edge -alone


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