I was born on a Monday, the second day where God created water waves and an expanse brake in order to divide sky and land, and he held my mother's hand as she labored me through hours of a feverish state. Yet she could not push my way out of her genital walls, so they called for the forceps that would cut into her flesh as they pulled the flesh of me away from the sea that nourished me for over 9 months. In Africa, they would have celebrated me as they named me Adwoa after the seventh day of my existence, but my father named me Dasha, not even knowing the true essence of my being. Yet I am beaming above stars and living beyond scars. I am loving, laughing, dreaming, believing that 28 years is just the beginning.
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