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Do you see me? Do you think I am human, a child worthy of love? Do you not see that I want to go outside and play with children my age? Why then do you tell me to shut up and stay indoors? Do you not see that I can not be kept in a box? Do you see my worth? Am I nothing but a kitchen maid, waiting to be bought? Do you not see that I want to run away, as far as I can? Do you know I...
This disease is hereditary, I remember the doctor telling us about it. He told my mom he wanted to speak to her children. We went over to my mum’s place against my father’s wish, he didn’t openly stop us but we could see it on his face. The slight frown around his lips, the croaking sound from his throat when we say are going over to her place “it’s okay but come...
β¦οΈ πππ πππππππππ πππππ of belt buckle meeting flesh rang in her ears so loudly that she didn’t have time to fully register the pain, coming from her back, travelling down her arms and fingertips, up to her head and back to the tip of her toes. The buckle of the belt met her skin again, the sharp cold metal digging deep and tearing out her flesh and the wielder of the belt swung it back...
I grew up in a tenement house popularly known as “Face-me-I-face-you” in the far end of Ajegunle. Ajegunle is the abandoned Lagos. A place where a fight is like a football game where scores are counted for the number of people dead, and each side trying to make the scores even. It is a place where dilapidated hospitals, schools, and infrastructures live. The only standard...
From shining bright to wallflower’s plight, I hide in shadows, shrinking from sight. I can take any form as long as I’m hidden, Losing myself in a world I’ve forbidden. Reminded of my past, I feel small and weak, Longing for the person I used to be. My body reminds me I’m no longer it’s owner, And I’m left...
In the solemn quarters of a young mind A man named fear, brings gift unkind Wraps his hand around my heart The fear he brings, tears me apart The fear of failure, a constant host Chasing dreams behind the coast It whispers in my ear at night The fear of failure, dimes my light Climbed my horse, on the road to success The man named fears tells me nonsense A heavy stone...
T.W(selfharm,violence) πππ πππππππππ πππππ of belt buckle meeting flesh rang in her ears so loudly that she didn’t have time to fully register the pain, coming from her back, travelling down her arms and fingertips, up to her head and back to the tip of her toes. The buckle of the belt met her skin again, the sharp cold metal digging deep and tearing out her flesh and the wielder of the...
For me, books are portals. Portals to different worlds that, although lying flat on ink and paper, possess the ability to come alive in your imagination. The first book I remember reading was titled The Kingβs New Clothes, and from there, the floodgates opened. I read anything I could get my hands on. Other parents complained about their kids spending too much time staring at screens; my mother...
Dreams are our what ifβs A chance to embark on the possibilities of our talents For some, dreams are more sacred Embedded in meanings not of the spiritual But of hope, dispensation, and wine which quenches thirst Dreams are an endless void Continually stacked as we learn about the world A sword in the hands of an untrained Whose swing could cut or leave one cut Hence our unease at pursuit Dreams...
A play on words for ‘The Federalist Papers’, ‘The ND papers’ is a conversation project on what it means to be a neurodivergent adult in Nigeria. We asked our participants to either take a survey or write an essay. We got 21 responses! and now we tell this story TO YOU.
Read, THE ND PAPERS
