I used to think that if I just explained myself well enough, I would be understood. So I tried. I softened my tone, reshaped my words, repeated my intentions. I became patient with things that hurt me, gentle with people who misunderstood me, careful not to sound “too much,” “too emotional,” “too anything.” Every time I spoke, I edited myself in real time—cutting pieces out so I could fit into their version of me. At first, it felt like effort. Then it became habit. Then it became who I was. Somewhere between explaining and apologizing, I stopped recognizing my own voice. I would finish speaking and feel… absent. Like I had left the room while my body stayed behind. Like I had translated myself so many times that the original version of me no longer existed.

Artwork Size & Ink Base:

36 x 36 inches Ink and Acrylic on Canvas

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Olumide Ajayi

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