When I'm not holding my pen, am telling stories. I'm the girl that eves drops on conversations, plot fights (aah this ones 😁) just to find that one sparkle of humor, pain , sadness, sarcasm and anything else I can pen down. I'm always listening from a distance,trying to act so unbothered mostly chewing hard on a gum. For me writing is therapeutic, it is the way I express the festivals and battles on my inside. It is my third eye. When words are scratched on the walls of my soul, I feel a rush of adrenaline and I am coarced to stop all that am doing and pay attention to my pen. By now you already know my pen is a sanguine. It's a short, light-skin woman with big eyes and hair caught in a bun with well laid edges. That's how this annoying girlfriends look right?😁. But it takes care of me and so naturally, I quite frequently submit to my pen. Kenyada.
Hey gang! So you guys remember the last story, read here, was supposed to be the last one the Campus tale series? Well guess what, we have one more story to close this chapter. It is also our first time to host a guest blogger.(yeey!) Gang, meet Kiiru Macharia, one of the best writer on these streets. You guys know him right? Because you should. Well, if not, you are just about to, sit tight.
She was lying in bed trying to catch at least one hour of sleep. It’s the least she could do after having to sit her behind in a car’s seat for about 9 hours. Besides, she had a whole night of wildness ahead of her.
So I appeal to you dear reader, to take up the challenge to be the only representation of yourself and to not delay to let that be known by those that think and feel they should define you. This is important especially now when cyberbullying and trolling is a common trend. Remember, nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent, Eleanor Roosevelt.