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✉️ Dear 19-Year-Old Me…

Sweet, stubborn girl... You’re staring at your reflection, wondering if you’re too loud or not loud enough .  You spend hours rewriting texts, rereading people’s tones, trying to shrink the bigness of your heart into something more “ palatable ." Here’s the plot twist:  you were never too much . You were always just right for the people who mattered, and too radiant for the ones who couldn’t handle your light. You think success is a checklist: Degree✅ Job✅ Relationship ✅ Glow-up✅  But life?  Life will laugh at your bullet points. It will bend your plans, break a few hearts (including your own), and then hand you back a stronger version of yourself. You’ll learn: growth doesn’t always look like elevation. Sometimes it looks like quiet survival . You’ll chase the wrong dreams. You’ll hold doors open for people who walk past without looking back. You’ll love recklessly. And then one day, you’ll set boundaries, not because you’re bitter, but because you’ve finally chos...
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The Question That Haunts Us All

Nobody warns you that, “ What do you want to do with your life?” is actually one of the most frustrating questions ever asked. It sounds simple—pick a path, follow the steps, land the job. But what about the detours? The wrong turns? The *mid-scroll crisis* when you see someone your age launching businesses while you’re just trying to survive the day?   Some Have Their Life Mapped Out… Then There’s Us. Fluctuating between passion, survival, and just trying NOT to wake up dreading Mondays.   And the pressure? Oh, it’s relentless.   💨 The invisible countdown starts the moment you leave school.   📩 Rejection emails hit like they’re scheduled.   🌀 You wonder if you missed a memo—like, did everyone else secretly get a handbook on *“How To Nail Life”*?     The Confusing Career Advice We Keep Hearing** - “Do what you love!”→ Cool, but does it pay?   - “Make sure you have stability.”→ Okay, but do I have to hate it?...
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**The People We Lose Without Meaning To**

  "Some stops are final, even when we don’t realize it" .    There’s a quiet ache in realizing that some people—people who once felt inseparable—might never cross our paths again. We call them friends, we call them family, we call them kindred spirits. And yet, life is like an unreliable trotro—it moves fast, makes unexpected stops, and sometimes, people get off without warning.   High school, uni, the neighborhoods we swore were home—filled with laughter, inside jokes, and plans that felt unbreakable. We thought we had time. We thought there’d always be another reunion, another night spent reminiscing, another chance to say what was left unsaid. We thought we had _always_. But life moves like the price of tomatoes—one day, steady; the next, completely out of control. People relocate, routines shift, conversations move from **daily rants** to *occasional check-ins*, to **just likes on Instagram**.   Maybe we search for them sometimes. Scroll through ...
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**The Power of Journaling**

If there’s one thing life has taught me, it’s that writing things down ** saves lives **. Well, maybe not literally—but definitely emotionally. Because let’s be real, if you don’t pour the drama, the heartbreak, the frustration, and the *“ Why is life doing me like this?” * moments onto a page, where else do they go?   Journaling is like gist with yourself—except it’s the safest gist ever. No aunties reading your texts, no friends accidentally spilling secrets, no random person quoting your struggles in a WhatsApp group chat. Just you, your words, and sometimes, ** the painful realization that you were actually the villain in the situation**.   Teen years? A chaotic mess. Full of **“OMG I’ll never recover”** heartbreaks, arguments over who borrowed your top and never returned it, and dramatic realizations like *“Wait… Do I actually hate math or did society force me to believe that?”* Then adulthood rolls in, and suddenly journaling becomes ** therapy you don’t have t...
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Being ‘Too African’ or ‘Not African Enough’

   It’s weird navigating identity sometimes.              One moment, you’re being called **“ too African ”**—because you actually love African prints, because you ** still eat banku with your hands **, because you refuse to abandon your roots for a curated aesthetic.   The next moment, you’re **“ not African enough ”**—because you like Afrobeats but don’t understand every local dialect, because you sometimes eat pasta instead of jollof.   And somehow, you’re expected to exist within this invisible boundary—**enough for one side, but not too much for the other**.   It’s as if identity is a checklist—   ✅ Speak your native language fluently.   ✅ Know the history of every ethnic group.   ✅ Never adapt, never mix cultures, never embrace external influences.   But let’s be real—culture is ** not static **. Africa itself is layered, evolving, dynamic. The continent is made up o...
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