MIRA'S SPACE
Finding My Sword “Find yourself,” they said. “How the hell did I get lost?” I asked. You see, all I remember about getting into this dark pit that dimmed the enviable light of my writing abilities, is losing my aunt. When I got that distress phone call on April 2, 2017 that her breath was forever gone, something died within me. I felt the absence. I felt the stench. Like the rot of a once blooming fruit. “what was the last thing she did before she faded into darkness?” I asked. “she tore apart her wristband” she, in one last breath, cut into two, the circular adornment that testified to her faith. This maddened me the more. Perhaps it was confusion. I thought it was rage but at the point, I was an unhealthy hodgepodge of varieties of gloom. You see, my aunt lost herself, her skyscraper dreams, her relationship with God, her career ambitions, in the euphoria of marriage. And when all expectations came crumbling down in the form of excess weight, lack, the need for
