Chidimma Writes

Storms, they say, only last for a night and fade away, but no one talks about the spoils they leave behind that sometimes stigmatize us forever. Trauma is insanely dangerous, and somehow I find it difficult to heal from it. I know my life is a book with so much hurt, so much that I cannot carry it any longer. Maybe I should run away to the desert, perhaps the beach or a waterfall, and connect again with nature, feel its stillness, and breathe in its freshness. We say, "I forgive you," easily, but our hearts have not consented yet. They say forgive even when an apology is not given, but I feel much worse than that. You do not want it, but somehow you wish the pain could disappear from your eyes. Maybe whoever caused it should be out for a while. I remember how easy it was to forgive even without any apology. I remember how she walked innocently. People walked over her until silence became her outfit. If she told her pain, know she was deeply hurt, and if not, know she had let ...