Feel? The word itself felt foreign, almost illegal. I couldn’t feel. how could I, when I was never allowed to? When every ounce of emotion had been conditioned out of me? You can’t just rewrite yourself to do something you’ve never been given permission to do.
Oh, how they would call me disobedient. How they would threaten to send me away, punish me for daring to acknowledge what was always meant to stay buried. To them, feeling was rebellion. Feeling was the ultimate sin committed before God.
Oh my father in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come they will be-
I can’t keep pretending to pray for my salvation.
I can’t keep mouthing words that taste like dust on my tongue.
How do I pray for salvation when I don’t even know if I want to be saved?
Saved from what?
From myself?
From the weight in my chest?
From the silence that follows me like a shadow?
Akosua diaries 
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