Dearest Kemunto,

On the night you lose yourself you will be in your room alone clutching desperately onto a moment when you were eating bourbon soaked chocolates while walking in the sun, when you tried to convince yourself you were happy. On that night you will dive, headfirst into a bottomless pit and you will drift so far away, you will not even know that you are drowning. Simply because he threatened to leave but you didn’t know where to go so you lied to yourself that you loved him when you chose to stay. You don’t know it but you are hungry and you are hurting deeply. Unfortunately, you are doing all the wrong things to make your emptiness go away.  

I am writing this to you now because I know back then nothing could have been done to make you walk away. When you are eighteen years old and no one seems to get your magic then nothing can stop you from doing what you can to fill that emptiness. Not even the idea that the person you are holding onto will just make the void even deeper. So I will simply, helplessly watch you go through that season.

But here I am from the other side and I want to tell you that I forgive you because eventually you will find your way home. It takes you a while. But you come into yourself. Who you really are. Not the skewed image you keep hoping he will love.  You find a way to cut off ties with this one person who was holding you back. You stop trying to shape shift and face who you are. You stop running and face this delicate, broken thing you are afraid of. You love on her. You make peace with her scars. And you realize that she, too, is worthy of every good thing that was ever made.

It’s time you know that you don’t fit into every space. You just never seem to. You weren’t born to be popular. And you never will be. You are awkward and innocent and you trip over things and spill food on yourself. You can’t sing or dance for shit and clothes just never seem to look right on you. Even when you keep trying. Your skin isn’t the most golden. You never go outgrow your A cup and your forehead could be smaller. So could your nose. But God did not make any mistake when he carved you and you learn to accept that you don’t need any broken young males raging with testosterone to make you feel wanted. Kemunto, you will embrace your weird. And learn to feel sexy just by sitting behind a keyboard and letting your fingers run.

Tonight you will take him back because you don’t know any better. Your days of soaking your pillow will only just begin. But darling, I promise you that the poets never lied.

Tonight I forgive you. For hurting yourself. Because I know it will take you a while but you will know your worth and you will not settle for anything less.

“Wounds filled with love,

Woman becoming” –

Ijeoma Umebinyuo

Love, now and always,


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