
Gutakamba
Mamayiwe
Thoughts and stories both complete and incomplete
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Mamayiwe

You cannot be what you are not, not for long.

i long for home,

If I must chip away at myself, let it be for rebirth.

I tell him to color outside the lines in permanent ink and just live with the consequences.

i dare you to look

still but not yet stuck
words and lovers

thoughts in the rainy season

How do you grieve?

pain of unknown origin

I was four years old when a man broke into our home.

The first and last time my mother put her hands on me was at my 9th birthday party.

Today I want to tackle the topic of fear.

On October 15th, I found myself scrolling through my Instagram feed and stumbled on a post that threw me into a hurricane of emotions that then led to me sitting here almost 2 months later writing about how I spent a good chunk of my adolescence betraying myself.

When I decided to finally start a blog, I struggled with finding what to write about.