Paper and Ink: Femme Aimee (68)

Paper and Ink: Femme Aimee (68)

By Emmeline Bisiikwa, Uganda:

Nobody likes to feel empty. The worst part is feeling empty yet your life is filled with so many people including those you are intimate with. You could have a smile on your face and no one will be able to tell you are broken inside and feel like you are standing in the middle of an abandoned football pitch after a game. All you feel are vestiges of memories and feelings that aren't really your own, yet their echo leaves you shaken to the core. You feel like something more deserves to reside in your heart but you have no idea where to get it from.

There’s no comfort in being alone, no one to talk to and run to when you feel down. So you run and fall and you get up, trying to find someone that makes it matter. You hurt and bleed and you cover your scars pretending to be normal and happy. You cry and weep and you find a way to cover your pain with a smile. You meet and try to form a connection but the part of you meant to share doesn't work right. You build and break and you try to fix yourself.

You work so hard trying to fill your life only to fall asleep by yourself and there is no one to fill the life you have built with things that shout out how empty you are. Emptiness doesn’t happen when you’re alone. It happens when you avoid the demons that are with you in your quiet hours.. It’s a sum of all the wrong things and the wrong people, all the wrong choices you have made and the wrong roads you let yourself wander down.

Some days you will feel as if there’s too much inside you that even your body can’t contain it. Like there is another person inside of you trying to claw themselves out and show the world that you aren't perfect, you can’t control what lives in your own skin. You will feel like you’re all alone in this but you aren’t.

I feel this like a lot. I try to write it down but if that doesn't work I cry my heart out, second guessing my mistakes and my past pain. With crying the wounds open wide, with memories of the good and bad clambering out and nestling close to me. The voices tell me I shouldn't have, I couldn't have. I tell them I had to. Being loved is much harder than loving. I have no idea how to let someone accept me with all my insecurities. Why would someone love this mess I am?

I have been so scared to break until I had no choice but to break until the pieces were too scattered to identify. And finally, like a phoenix I can feel myself coming back together again. I know the person that could love me is somewhere out there; he just has to find me. I hope when he does I will be ready.

Founder and Editor in Chief of the Readers Cafe Africa

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