Àwọn Àmì-ìwé Tí A Fẹ̀

The more I looked through that album, the clearer everything became, like a fog lifting after years of confusion, and for the first time, I wasn’t trying to piece together memories or question my own reality, I was looking at undeniable proof that I had been abandoned in the moment I needed them mo…

The more I looked through that album, the clearer everything became, like a fog lifting after years of confusion, and for the first time, I wasn’t trying to piece together memories or question my own reality, I was looking at undeniable proof that I had been abandoned in the moment I needed them most. There were photos taken from the hallway, timestamps showing exactly when my parents left, notes describing the way my mother dismissed me, and even copies of hospital records confirming how seriou