Type 2 Happiness I was fucking exhausted. Two asthma attacks, ribs shattered from 10 hours of gasping, water pack frozen solid. Survival mode running empty.
But when I reached Uhuru, I felt free.
And in that moment as I stood at the top on the edge of the world, heart pounding, breath stilling, clouds beneath my tiny size 3 feet – I realised, that I did something hard, and I did not quit. That I did this, step by step, along with all the broken fragments I used to hide in shadows – now, integrated.
Because to climb Kilimanjaro, I had to tap into everything I already am – Not to become her, But to recognise her reflection in me.
Because my freedom was never waiting to be found at Uhuru, It had always been inside of me. A self-belief so hard that nothing, and no one can ever dismantle me again.
Type 2 Happiness is a rare kind of spiritual transcendence, like the humbling awareness that i brought myself up 5895m, step by step, through my own willpower (and the porters of course).
I found my Uhuru. Not the peak—me.
P.S. ‘Uhuru’ in swahili, means ‘freedom’.
Kili Kaj
Forged from the tension of her ground pulling apart the weight of every silence she’d ever swallowed.
Inner pressure rising through her dissociated cracks like magma rising in a rift zone, up a dormant volcano that holds the same fire, beneath the calm exterior of her self-contained identity.
Pressure peaked inside the fires of Kilimanjaro,
and she rose like the freestanding mountain beneath her feet.
Life broke me down like a domino effect numerous times before my mid-20s.
But the human spirit is unbreakable, once you really test the edge of its capacity.
Every time I thought I’d reached my rock bottom, I somehow got out – and find my way into another one shortly after.
SHE WON'T SIT STILL OR SHUT UP 
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