This one’s on me. I’m happy to share my latest article for Selamta, the in-flight magazine of Ethiopian Airlines. For this assignment, I spent an afternoon being led to and fed in lesser known/much loved restaurants around Addis Ababa (one of which had one of the best ceiling art I’d ever seen, see below), all in …
…because I want to look amazing when he next sees me (never mind he does not want me and when I am thinking clearly I don’t want him either)
As I enjoy this period of contentment and insight, I cannot help but feel that the worst is yet to come.
I resume journaling at the end of a relationship. Usually that’s when I realize all that was wrong with the relationship…I can’t help but think that this abandoning of journaling, as soon as I am coupled with a man, is a form of abandoning myself.
To no one’s surprise, my ten-years-ago self continues to wallow in her post-breakup misery, in this latest instalment of my diary entries from back in the day. I’ve turned to religion, as you’ll see. Even made up my own little prayer. On the plus side, this entry contains an exquisite paragraph from one of my …
Once I came near humiliation when I was going to go straight to his house one morning. But I stopped myself in time. I hate the fact that I need to write all this down.
It occurred to me as I re-read yesterday’s entry that my conflict towards my work stems from the fact that I don’t feel that I have a right to express myself.
For every part of me that wants to belong, another part of me wants to remain a nomad.