uMwizerwa wa Ngoboka

Trigger warning: may contain strong imagery and upsetting language. PS: this is a true story, the experience of someone who was and is still hurting but wanted to remain anonymous. I needed closure, and I found it in the String. May 01, 2016; 11:30PM I am laying in my bed, holding a metal string around my neck. In the darkness it feels cold and stifling, but I had made my mind. I pulled harder, and then harder. My breath halted; bitterness filled my mouth; my tongue felt like it was coming out. I felt like my head was expanding and then it would explode into a zillion little pieces. I started getting weaker, and my hands could no longer pull on the string. As a young girl, I have always been shy- unable to break out of my shell. Every time I saw a group of people I distanced myself from them. Even if it was my classmates. As I grew up my shyness dissolved, but my fear to engage with people did not. I was my own person, and I depended on no one else but me. Starting grad...

Two weeks, five roommates When I first arrived in the hospital, it was November 24 Saturday.  My very first roommate was Jaala. Jaala told me I am beautiful when she first saw me. This boosted my ego, made me feel good. I never saw her in the room though; they probably moved her to the room she was in the rest of her stay here. She is an amazing person. Even though she talked about being old, she looked young and hip. She would get very invested in things. On walks, she collected pines and moss and tree bark for Christmas decorations. She made a very beautiful something, and I’ll always remember her by it. Two days later, I was moved west, and my roommate was called Jisca. Jisca has beautiful hair, it is long and smooth. I was surprised because she seemed to me like someone who would have shorter hair. I think she was brave. She would say no when she didn’t want to do stuff; this was very impressive for me. Selfishly I thought she was in a much worse shape than I was and ...