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You said we could speak about it if I ever needed to, but I knew we never could and never would.

I know your hate for Islam; I have seen it in your face when watching television or when it comes up in a conversation. In the summer, X was trying to think of the intellectual force at the time of the last millenium. There, there was utter silence, and I kept silent too, through fear, though I could have spoken for hours.

When you read my Tanzanian report, where I said I didn’t have the faith of my family, and then you gave me advice by speaking to mum so that I would overhear.

I find myself in the worst position I could imagine. I am scared.

Every night praying that I’ll wake up in the morning.

I believe in a despised religion