PAIN
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Ordinary spaces should not require justification. Silence is not consent. Presence is not permission. This is a representative narrative not fear-based, not sensational just honest. Boundaries are not provocation. #BoundariesAreNotProvocation #InsightOfAKenyanGirl #EndVAWG #ConsentIsNotNegotiable #WomenDeserveSafety #EverydaySpaces #SpeakUp #FeministWriting
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Forget me, remember me, let the wind decide my story. #WhispersOfThePast #writersofinstagram #Bookstagram#MelancholyMuse #SoftDarkAesthetic #LostStories #EtherealInk
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Supposedly modern, yet I still tiptoe around fragile egos. Every rule, every expectation, every invisible demand reminds me that true equality is still far away. It is time to question. It is time to demand change. It is time to stop walking on eggshells. #WalkingOnEggshells #ModernInequality #FeministVoice #GenderEquality #BreakTheSilence #InvisibleRules #WomenSpeak #DemandChange #EqualityMatters #NotYourResponsibility
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I will walk. I will sweat. I will live. Not for their comfort, not for their approval, not for their control. To every woman: take up space, speak your truth, move freely. Our existence is not an invitation—it’s a rebellion. ✨💥 #NotYourProperty #WomenUnapologetic #TakeUpSpace #ShePersists #FreedomToBe #DefyTheNorms #Harrasment
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Some girls burn bridges, some disappear without notice. Me? I do both. I love too easily, forget too quickly, and leave like Arrivederci quiet, final, unstoppable. #Arrivederci #DarkAesthetic #MoodyVibes #CinematicMood #EmotionalChaos #HauntingConfession #LonelyHeart #PrettyKindOfAbsence #Introspective #LostSouls #GoodbyeForever
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Smiling on the shore is easy when you’re not the one drowning 🌊💔 #SaltInMyLungs #DrowningSilently #UnseenBattles #Sadness #overwhelmed
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I knocked. I waited. I loved loudly. Now I’m quiet. Not bitter—just done. And my silence? That’s the goodbye. #SoftGoodbye #HealingHeart #PoeticTruth #Healing #Growth #SoftGoodbye #EmotionalTruth #TiredHeart #NoMoreChasing #IGCaptions #WritingFromTheHeart
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I am bidding my farewell to the past, to the blind version of myself who refused to see things for what they truly were. It’s finally time to walk away. This place, once so familiar, has become a tortured ground. A haunted house where the ghosts knew me by name, where the walls whispered my
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The first spoonful of biryani tasted like comfort and sunlight — warm, spicy, filling in a way hospital food never could. He stayed by the door, leaning casually against the frame, hands stuffed deep in his pockets like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to step closer. Neither of us spoke much.The room hummed
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This is not a love story. This is a story of a girl who loved too hard in a world that never caught her. New blog post up now. Read the full story.
Insight of a Kenyan Girl 