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My Words 

My words are mine and I choose  whether or not to say them. My words are ink not lead, they are not easily erasable; not easily forgotten; not easily refutable. My words are my bond; like a belt around my waist, they bind me. My words are a boomerang; they will always come back to me.  My words are a mirror; they reflect the state of my mind.  My words

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Love is (automatically) Supportive

  On the 27th of July 2015, at about 10:30pm, I climbed Kevwe’s bed on the top bunk, pulled out my laptop and started typing an article for which I had gotten an inspiration to write during the day. Intermittently, I would pause, pick up my phone and reply Yinka’s chat or I would crack a joke for my roommates and we’ll all laugh.   Leave me in a desert

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