I Thought I Loved You, I Didn't
It's incredible how many times I've attempted to put this experience into words, each attempt leaving me questioning my skills as a writer. Our relationship, if one could even call it that, seems too ridiculous to articulate. With you, I was always at a loss for words, never able to say no.
Life is Full of Strife
Dear Diary, Life is full of strifes, and today was no exception. It seems as if every step I take is met with resistance, and the weight of the world bears down on my shoulders. How do I find the strength to carry on when the road ahead is so uncertain?
In the quiet corners of a bustling city, amidst the cacophony of life's symphony, lived a woman named Lily. Her heart had been enveloped in darkness for as long as she could remember. An aura of despondency clung to her like a heavy shroud, suffocating her spirit.
My Skin, My Color
My Skin, My Color In the depths of my being, my journey begins. My skin, my color – a reflection of my heritage, a canvas that bears the brushstrokes of centuries past. As I navigate this world, I carry with me the weight of history and the power of resilience ingrained in every fiber of my being.
I'm a lady, I grew up in a typical African home. A home where the values of a woman, was or has been entrenched and imbibed in me at a very young age, like no kidding. I live in an environment where I am constantly incessantly , always reminded that I will leave my parents house and I will move to my husband's house
African Echoes: Breaking the Shackles of gender stereotypes
Dear Diary, Today, as I sit here and pour my heart out to you, I can't help but feel overwhelmed by the weight of societal expectations placed upon me simply because I am a woman. Growing up in this typical African home, I was taught that my future would revolve around leaving my parents' house and moving to my husband's house. From a very young age, the values of a woman were deeply ingrained in me, like an unyielding echo that followed my every step.
Shopping in the Dessert
In the heart of the vast, unforgiving desert, where the scorching sun reigns supreme and life seems like a distant memory, there stood a small, weathered town called Oasis Junction. The town had once thrived as an oasis, bustling with life and prosperity, but as the years passed, the life-giving waters had receded, leaving behind a desolate landscape. Among the few remaining residents was an elderly woman named Clara, whose days were filled with a profound loneliness that echoed through the abandoned streets.
Writing to Winter
Dear winter, As I sit by the frosted windowpane, pen in hand and my heart aflutter, I find solace in your icy embrace. The world outside is painted in hues of white and gray, and the whispers of snowflakes dance in the air, inviting me to embark on a journey of creativity and introspection. I write to you, dear winter, for you are my muse, inspiring tales that weave through the chill of the season.