Whenever I read my posts I find out how fucked up my life is. That’s basic. Sometimes I get superb revelations. Today, I’ve realized that I write everything in Dholuo. It might dress and walk and talk like English, but it is Dholuo.
Somedays, you wake up with bile in your mouth. You feel your tongue doesn’t fit within the confines of your teeth. Or it’s rough. You smell your breath, and it’s nasty AF. Then you remember the old you, that little kid who believed in so much. Yeah, the boy is now a man.