Mkurugenzi Frankie

I keep asking myself the same question, as if saying it often enough might force the universe to answer. Who am I? The question follows me from place to place. I move quickly...too quickly...chasing solutions that shine brightly for a moment and then shatter before the month ends, slipping through my hands like fragile glass. Each time I think I’ve found solid ground, it gives way beneath my feet. There was a time I loved something so fiercely that I emptied myself into it without measure. I gave until there was nothing left to give, only to be met by silence. A hollow, unforgiving silence. Have you ever been trapped like that...stuck to a dream the way glue clings to skin? Years pass. A decade, maybe more. Failure becomes a familiar companion, and the world begins to ask the question out loud: Why do you keep doing this to yourself? I rarely answer. But deep inside, in the quiet marrow of my bones, I know why. Long ago, my parents planted something in me...a stubborn seed that refuses...