but you know word has always been unreliable,

just like the stories they told about Adufe’s mother.

Back on our street in Ibadan,

every child knew not to take anything from Iya Adufe.

Why? you’d ask me.

Our mothers said Iya Adufe slept with every man she set her eyes on,

and not only that, she was a witch.

How did our mothers know all this?

I wonder too.

Because I remember Iya Adufe differently, o.

I remember the way her wrapper was always neatly tied, her shuku neatly made

and the quiet of her compound.

I remember Adufe,

the kindest boy on the street.

How could someone so evil beget such a sweet creature?

I remember the day she offered me groundnuts,

I hesitated,

my mother’s voice loud in my head.

And her eyes that day,

they did not look like a woman who swallowed men whole.

They looked like someone the street had already eaten.

So tell me,

when they speak of you now,

with that same certainty,

that same hunger to name and ruin,

should I believe them?

Or should I remember

that Iya Adufe was also a story,

and stories,

when told often enough,

begin to sound like truth.

Some months ago, I asked my homeboy to give me a random word ‘cause I felt like writing, and the word he gave me was WORD. 😂 I decided to share this piece with you today, because I remembered it and think it’s actually good.

Thanks for reading, bye!❤️

Well... I'm kind of angry.😡

I've been trying to stay consistent for a while now, but I disappeared yesterday and last week, and nobody asked where I went. 😂😡

But it's fine, I guess. Everybody's busy, so I get it. I hope you're doing okay, though. If you're also on IT like me, I hope it's going well. Anyway, that's the purpose of today's letter. I have a lot to say, but I won't be able to tell the full gist until I leave this place, you know, to avoid trouble. You honestly never know what might happen. So, for now, here's the version I can tell.

So if you like gossip, enjoy reading this i guess?

This is my second SIWES as a pharmacy student. If you're familiar with the pharmacy programme, you already know how it works: the first IT is usually in a community pharmacy, the second is in a hospital or manufacturing setting, and then we move on to our clinical postings., if you're offering a Pharm. D. This one has been a roller coaster of emotions. I keep comparing it to last year's experience, and I think it's mainly because last year I had my friends with me. I wasn't alone. This time, I'm basically by myself. I wasn't supposed to be, but long story short, a lot happened, and I ended up here alone. That's a story for another day. But can I just say that ten-year-old me would never have believed I'd be able to stay in a house by myself for weeks? There was even one night when my housemate didn't come home. I had to sleep alone... and there was no light. No electricity. Nothing. Ten-year-old Faith would have cried herself to sleep. But I did it, and I think that just shows me how much I've grown. Another thing this experience has taught me is how underdeveloped my social skills actually are. I've always known they weren't great; I just didn't know they were this bad. What do you mean I've been living in the same house with someone for four weeks and I don't know their name? I only realized that yesterday. Four whole weeks. I don't know this person's name. To be fair, I don't even know if they know mine, so maybe we're even. Oh wait, they do oh.

Speaking of my housemate, there have been... quite a few moments. My friends on Snapchat can testify to how much I've complained about this person, and how they keep testing my patience. Looking back, though, I realized something about myself. Maybe a few years ago, I would have reacted differently. Maybe I would have said something I shouldn't have. But now, every time something happens, I just tell myself, "It's only a matter of weeks. It'll soon be over." And somehow, that's enough to calm me down. My family members know how particular I am. Sharing a space is one thing, but sharing cutlery with a stranger? That's not exactly my idea of fun. So this experience has definitely stretched me in ways I didn't expect. As a matter of fact, while I was writing this, this person used my insecticide(without my permission, by the way) and the thing is disturbing my breathing in my room.

As for the work itself, I think I mentioned in one of my previous letters how fascinated I was by all the machines. Well... that fascination has officially disappeared. Now it's just work. Let's not even talk about the fact that I'm doing 8-6 from Monday to Friday, when my mates are just going thrice in a day. As if that wasn't even enough, last week, my phone got seized outside the production unit. Yess, you read that right.

Before you judge me, let me explain. In almost every pharmaceutical industry, phones aren't allowed in production, and I know that. My friends doing SIWES elsewhere have the same rule. Officially, you're not supposed to take your phone in. Unofficially... we're Nigerians. Most people still carry theirs because they need somewhere to charge them, and the electricity situation where I'm staying hasn't exactly been encouraging. So that day, I stepped outside with my phone, and while I was going back in, one of the supervisors saw it and collected it. Fair enough. I even went to his office to plead with him, and he told me to come back at closing time. I accepted my fate. Closing time came... and the man had gone to watch football. And I had to wait almost two hours to get my phone back. Like this people actually expected that I actually go home without phone. I cried home that evening. I wish I were joking. That wasn't even the only incident that's happened here. There have been several moments that have made me realize that a lot of older Nigerians don't always leave room for nuance. Rules are important, yes, but sometimes I genuinely wonder if people stop to think about why a rule exists before enforcing it. I'll save that conversation for another day, though.

Overall, it's been challenging, funny, frustrating, and surprisingly educational. I'm genuinely learning. I've met people who actually want to teach me, and I'm trying not to limit myself to only what they think I should know. I'm asking questions, observing everything, and soaking up as much as I can. I don tire sha. And I think my favourite part of all this is knowing that I won't have to do this again. Yes, i'll graduate, look for a job, and life will come with its own new challenges, but at least, I still have two more years before that time comes.

One last thing before I go. I went to church today, and they sang my favourite hymn. I don't know what it is about that hymn, but the moment it started, I couldn't stop smiling. It felt so comforting, like God gently reminding me that He's been here through every single part of this journey. I think I'm always gushing about God and His faithfulness because I genuinely can't help it. Looking back at the loneliness I have had to feel this period, the frustrating moments, the little victories, the laughter, and even the days I just wanted this whole experience to be over, all I can see is His faithfulness. He has been so kind to me. Hearing that hymn today reminded me that this season will pass, just like every other season has, and that I have never really been walking through it alone. And honestly? That made me happier than I can explain. Anyway, that's all from me today. Thank you for reading my little ramblings. I'll see you in the next letter.

Byee!❤️

How are you? How was your week?

For me, it was just the same old, going to work and coming back home. I feel like the awe I had at the beginning of this internship has faded a little because a lot has happened beneath it. I don't want to complain too much, though. So, it's alright. I'm learning, and I suppose that's what matters.

Anyways...

You know how the internet works, especially TikTok?

I don't know if you've experienced this, but sometimes, especially in the middle of the night, you watch just one video about a concept or someone. There was this day I came across a video about the Celestial Church of Christ. Out of curiosity, I watched the whole thing, and you won't believe that almost every other video on my For You Page that night was about the Celestial Church. I don't know why TikTok does that, but it does. And with the kind of mind that I have, that's usually where the problem begins.

I have this habit that TikTok has only made worse. I don't just become interested in things—I disappear into them. One video becomes another, then I find myself on YouTube watching documentaries. From there, I'm reading interviews, articles, and biographies. Before I know it, it's 2 a.m., and I'm trying to understand a person, an era, or an event that had absolutely nothing to do with the plans I had for my evening.

There was a time I couldn't get enough of Greek mythology. This was even before TikTok. I had just finished reading Percy Jackson, and suddenly I wanted to know everything. I read everything I could find. Even now, whenever I'm looking for books, I still find myself searching for books on Greek myths. I even have a few sitting on my shelf that I haven't gotten around to reading yet.

Princess Diana was one of those rabbit holes.

Growing up, I only knew the broad strokes. I knew there was a princess. At some point, I even thought she was the Queen's daughter. I knew the wedding was so grand that the whole world watched it, and I knew she died in a car accident. I also remember hearing bits and pieces from my mum about how she fell in love with an Egyptian man and how controversial that was. That was the story I inherited.

Then I started watching The Crown. I wanted to understand how the monarchy actually worked. I found it fascinating that one family had remained at the centre of British history for so long. I wanted to know who these people were beyond newspaper headlines and what had really happened. So I started reading interviews, articles, biographies—anything I could find. Out of everyone, Princess Diana interested me the most. I'm currently watching The Crown again, and I've finally gotten to the Princess Diana part. It's so strange watching it now because I already know so much more than I did the first time. By the end of that rabbit hole, I wasn't just learning about a princess. I was learning about a young woman who became a global symbol while carrying more loneliness than anyone should ever have to.

Michael Jackson was another rabbit hole.

Like many Nigerians, I grew up hearing rumours before I ever knew the person. The jokes about his skin, the myths, the allegations, the headlines—they all came before the man himself. At the same time, I also grew up around people who loved his music.

Then, a while ago, a wave of nostalgia hit me, and I started listening to his songs again. Around the time the biopic was announced, I became curious, so I started reading. I watched interviews, listened to people who knew him, and tried to understand his life beyond the headlines.I came away seeing his story very differently from how I had understood it growing up. One thing that struck me the most was how tragic his childhood was. He never really got the chance to be a child.

And in some ways, I couldn't help but think about Diana too. She was barely into adulthood when she married into one of the most famous families in the world. They lived completely different lives, but both of them seemed to carry the weight of being symbols before they ever had the chance to simply be people. Those rabbit holes taught me so much, about power, about fame, about history, about how quickly public opinion becomes accepted as truth, and about how easy it is to reduce complicated human beings to a single headline.

I don't want to make definitive claims about people or events, but I do know that almost every time I've gone looking for context, I've come away with more compassion than I started with.

Rabbit holes can be dangerous too. If you're not careful, they'll steal hours of your day.

Ask my mum.

I read a whole book about Princess Diana and didn't let that woman rest for days. Every conversation somehow found its way back to the royal family. A few weeks ago, we travelled together, and I spent a good part of the journey telling her everything I had learned about Michael Jackson.

Poor woman.😂😂

But I think that's why I've come to appreciate this curious mind that I have. It's not just about Princess Diana or Michael Jackson or Greek mythology. I've never really been satisfied with surface-level answers. If something interests me, I want to understand it. I want to know why. I want to know how. I want to know what happened before that and what happened after.

Funny enough, I think that curiosity has helped my faith too. I've never been afraid of asking questions about God. If I don't understand something in Scripture, I want to study it. If I hear something that doesn't sit right with me, I want to search it out. I want to read, listen, and understand.

I don't think God is intimidated by our questions. I think He delights in being sought. Some people think questions weaken faith. For me, they've done the opposite. Every rabbit hole I've gone down in my faith has left me with a deeper appreciation of who God is. Curiosity hasn't pulled me away from Him; it's drawn me closer.

Maybe that's why I don't mind falling down the occasional rabbit hole. Yes, they steal my time, and yes, they keep me awake far later than they should. But they've also reminded me that people are rarely as simple as the stories we inherit about them. History is more complicated than headlines, and there is almost always another layer waiting to be uncovered if we're willing to ask one more question.

And that's why I'm grateful for the gift of curiosity, it keeps reminding me to ask one more question.

Until next time, my love.

Byeee!❤️

What's one rabbit hole you’ve gone down in? Let me know in the comments.🥹

How are you? How was this week for you?

For me... it was a lot.

I started my industrial training this week—SIWES, basically—and it has already been quite the experience. My work hours are from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. every day, so I’ve been spending almost all my time there. Yesterday, they actually asked if I could come in on Saturday too. I had to let them know that wasn’t going to work. I need at least one day to just breathe!

The first two days, I was in the microbiology laboratory, and honestly, I loved it. It felt so familiar because I’ve always liked lab work. I just enjoyed watching everything happen and being part of the process.

Then on Wednesday, they moved me to granulation. You guys...

I was in absolute awe. Watching the machines work and seeing how everything comes together was fascinating. I would have shown you pictures if I could, but we’re not allowed to take any. It was just a beautiful experience standing there and absorbing it all. But I also got a tiny glimpse into industrial pharmacy, and I have to say, after hearing the deafening noise of those granulation machines all day? I don't think that's the life I want. I know it's a vital part of the profession, but it’s definitely not for me, for now sha. Still, I’m really grateful to experience these different paths firsthand.

So yes, that’s my little update.

Now... let’s talk about today’s letter.

I’ve been thinking a lot about us lately. About Nigerians, maybe even Africans generally.

And before anybody comes for me, let me explain what I mean. I don't think Nigerians lack intelligence, and I don't even know if "not logical" is the right phrase. I really don't want this to sound insulting, because that’s honestly not my intention. But sometimes I look at the things we do, or the things we believe, and I genuinely find myself asking: *"Why are we thinking this way?"*

There are some practices that are clearly harmful, yet people will defend them to the death simply because "that’s what we've always known." And what surprises me the most is that this isn't just happening among uneducated people. It’s happening with literate people. People with degrees. And that’s when I realized: going to school doesn’t automatically make you educated. Some people pass through school, but school never actually passes through them. They have the certificates, but they never learned to question, to analyze, or to think beyond what they were told.

It often feels like culture, tradition, or religion completely overrides logic.

Now, let me pause and clarify before someone misunderstands me. I’m a Christian. I love God, and I try my best to live according to my faith. This isn't me saying religion or faith is bad. Not at all. I know where faith comes in, and I know what genuine faith looks like. But I also know what happens when people stop thinking and simply hide behind a religious label.

The other day I saw a post online where someone argued that the problem with Africa is that we keep trying to raise "God-fearing" children instead of "critical-thinking" children, and that's why we aren't developing. Someone replied to them, saying, "The funny thing is, if you were actually a critical thinker, you wouldn’t make that statement."

And they were right! Because why do we act like those two things are mortal enemies? A person can fear God and still think critically. You can have deep faith and still ask hard questions. You can believe in God and actually use the brain He gave you. Those two things don't cancel each other out.

Take healthcare, for example. There’s a particular denomination that, for years, believed members shouldn’t receive blood transfusions. Many people died because of that doctrine. Then, years later, the teaching changed to allow it under certain conditions. When I heard that, I couldn't stop thinking about all the lives that were already lost. It made me ask myself: *What exactly are we doing?*

Again, I’m not attacking anyone. But as someone entering the medical field, it hits differently. I love when pastors say, "Pray, trust God, but *go to the hospital*." God absolutely heals, but that doesn't mean we ignore the doctors, the science, or the resources available to us. Faith shouldn't become an excuse to neglect wisdom.

Then I saw a video on TikTok of a church building that was completely flooded, yet people were still inside holding a service. I just kept thinking... *Why?* There could be electrical hazards, snakes, waterborne diseases—all sorts of danger. Wouldn't it make more sense to postpone or find a safe space? Where is the line between faith and reckless endangerment?

It’s the same thing with culture. Culture is beautiful; it gives us our stories and our identity. But there are traditions that are simply archaic. There are beliefs causing more harm than good in 2026, yet you’ll find young, "educated" people holding onto them without ever stopping to ask why. Take for example, that Ozioro “raping” festival.

When did asking questions become a sign of disrespect? When did thinking become rebellion? Our biggest issue isn't a lack of brainpower. It's that we've become uncomfortable with discomfort. We let sentiment, culture, and rigid religiosity override reason. But they don't have to.

We can hold onto our faith while keeping our minds sharp. We can preserve our culture while letting go of traditions that no longer serve us. We can respect authority without surrendering our ability to ask, “Why?" If education isn't teaching us how to think, how to question, and how to reason, then it’s just expensive compliance. And I think we deserve better than that.

Anyway, these are just the thoughts that chased me through the noise of the granulation room this week. Maybe I’m missing something, but I’d genuinely love to know what you think. Drop your thoughts in the comments, and let’s talk.

Until next week, I love you, bye!❤️

How are you? How was this week for you?

Mine was quiet. Mostly spent at home, washing plates and watching The Crown. I don't know why, but time seems to be moving so fast these days. I barely remember what day it is anymore. That was why it was when I woke up this morning, I realized it was Saturday.

"Oh, I have to write you a letter "

It was during our family devotion, wondering what I should write about when a question settled into my heart:

Is faithlessness a side effect of depression, or is depression a side effect of faithlessness?

To be honest, I'm not surprised that this question found me. I mean, as I've shared before, I spent a good part of the first half of this year battling depression. One of the things that took the hardest hit during those months was my faith. Well, that's a story for another day. Happy new month, by the way!❤️

Anyways, today, I want to sit with this question, with you. I originally intended to write this as an essay. Somewhere along the way, I realized it wasn't going to be one. So, I guess this is simply me thinking out loud, trying to answer a question that has refused to leave me alone.

Let's imagine that, all of a sudden, I can no longer see the stars. At first, I'd probably assume they simply hadn't come out that night. Or maybe, impossibly, that they had burnt out. But if night after night passed and I still couldn't see them, I think I'd begin to ask a different question:

Is something blocking my view?

And I think that's the question I'm really asking today.

If you asked a psychiatrist, they might tell you that faithlessness is a side effect of depression. They’ll tell you depression doesn't just affect your emotions; it changes the way you perceive reality. It makes hope difficult to imagine. It makes joy feel impossible to reach. A brain overwhelmed by depression struggles to hold onto abstract things like hope, purpose, and even faith. According to Aaron Beck's Cognitive Triad, depression convinces you of three things : the self is defective, the world is cruel, and the future is hopeless. Faith requires a belief in a future that is good. Because depression chemically blinds you to the concept of a good future, faithlessness becomes a natural, almost inevitable symptom.

But if you asked a philosopher, they might answer differently. That human beings are meaning-making creatures and faith often provides the ultimate framework for meaning, community, and safety. When that framework collapses (through trauma, unanswered prayers, or intellectual disillusionment), it creates an existential vacuum. That without faith, the universe can suddenly feel indifferent, chaotic, and terrifyingly random. The realization that "no one is coming to save me" or "there is no grand design behind my suffering" can induce a state of learned helplessness. They might tell you that faith is like the foundation of a house and faithlessness is pulling the foundation out from under a house. The house doesn't fall because it's defective; it falls because it no longer has anything solid to stand on.

And you know what? I think both sides are right. Because the more I think about it, the more I realize that trying to separate these two is like trying to separate the wind from the storm. They're connected. They feed each other. This isn't a simple equation where A causes B. It's an Ouroboros—a snake eating its own tail.

Whether the cycle starts with depression or an existential crisis of belief, they eventually meet in the middle. The moment depression drains your capacity for joy, it begins to starve your faith. And the moment your faith begins to weaken, the walls of depression seem to close in just a little tighter. Depression strips away your capacity to feel hope; the resulting lack of hope confirms depression's lie that things will never get better. One tells you that God is distant. The other convinces you He was never there to begin with. Round and round they go.

Which is why I don't think the real question is which one comes first. I think the better question is this:

When I can no longer see the stars, have the stars disappeared... or is something simply blocking my view?

Now, if I am being honest, when the night is at its thickest, it feels like the stars have disappeared. The depressed mind is a convincing liar; it tells you that the darkness is the only permanent thing, that the light was just a cruel illusion you made up to comfort yourself. But I am reminded of David in Psalm 13. He seems caught in this same kind of spiral when he cries out: "How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long must I take counsel in my soul and have sorrow in my heart all the day?" David's sorrow had clouded his awareness of God's presence, leaving him to take counsel only within his own heavy mind. Reading those words reminds me that even those who walked closely with God experienced seasons when heaven felt painfully silent.

The tragedy of this vicious cycle is that it makes you feel like you have to fix the whole sky to get your light back. It tells you that until the depression lifts entirely, you cannot have faith, and until your faith is perfectly restored, you cannot heal. But that's the thing about cycles, they are fragile. They rely on absolute continuity to survive. That means they can be broken by the smallest things.

You don't need the fog to completely clear to know the sky is still there. You just need a single breeze. Even in the middle of his grief, David shifts at the end of that very same Psalm, choosing to say, "But I have trusted in your steadfast love." It wasn't a sudden cure; it was a stubborn choice to remember what was behind the clouds. You don't need a massive, earth-shattering revelation to break the spin; you just need the stubborn, quiet willingness to wake up on a Saturday, open a blank page, and look for the words.

Maybe faithlessness is the symptom, and maybe depression is the consequence. But, my love, the remedy isn't figuring out the math of our pain. The remedy is simply remembering that the fog is a visitor. The sky is the home.

This is easier said than done, by the way. Simply remembering is not as easy as it sounds. Depression has a way of making you forget. It doesn't just steal your joy; it steals your memory of joy. It makes yesterday's prayers feel imaginary and yesterday's mercies feel borrowed. It convinces you that because you cannot feel God's presence, He must no longer be there. So no, remembering isn't simple. Sometimes remembering is the battle.

I remember that point while I was in school when I realized I couldn't keep suffering in silence. So, for what felt like the first time, I opened up to someone about what I was carrying. One of the things she said has stayed with me ever since. She gently pointed out that, in the middle of my pain, I seemed to have forgotten all the ways God had been faithful to me before. Not because they hadn't happened, but because the weight of what I was carrying had become so heavy that it was all I could see.

Then she told me something simple: "Make a conscious effort to remember." At the time, I thought she was asking me to do something impossible. How do you remember light when all you've known for months is darkness?

That evening, I decided to try. As I walked back to my hostel, I slowed my pace and made a conscious effort to remember. One answered prayer. One moment of grace. One reminder that God had been with me all along. And somehow, that day, my mood lifted. Absolutely not in a dramatic, life-changing way. Depression doesn't disappear overnight. Mine didn't. But for the first time in a long time, the fog didn't feel quite as thick. Looking back now, I don't think it was because I had suddenly found all the answers. I think it was because, for a moment, I stopped listening only to what my pain was telling me and allowed myself to remember what God's faithfulness had already shown me.

So, maybe faith is not seeing the stars. Maybe faith is refusing to believe they have ceased to exist simply because the fog has hidden them. As Psalm 139 reminds us, "If I say, 'Surely the darkness shall cover me...' even the darkness is not dark to you." And today, from the safety of this quiet Saturday morning, I am choosing to believe the stars are still there. Even if I have to wait a little longer for the view to clear.

And if you're reading this from the middle of your own fog, I want to leave you with this prayer:

I pray that, in the moments when depression makes hope feel impossible and faith feels painfully out of reach, you will be reminded that God's presence has never depended on your ability to feel it. I pray that, even when your mind tells you the stars are gone, God will gently remind you that they are only hidden for a while. Amen.

I really hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it. My IT is starting next week and I’m so excited, because I’m actually tired of just sitting at home everyday. I think that's the side effect of staying in school for six months straight.

Anyways, see you next week, my love! I love you and Jesus loves you more!❤️

Byeee!

— Jeremiah 17:9

Hi, my love. How are you? How was last week for you? I know I should have sent this letter yesterday, but somehow time has been moving so fast. It's funny because I'm not really doing anything now that I'm back home, but somehow I still lost track of time. It was only when I was in church this morning that I remembered I hadn't sent you this week's letter.

Happy Sunday, by the way. I hope you went to church, and I hope you enjoyed the presence of God.

So, today's letter is about something that has been sitting on my mind recently. One of the greatest lies we tell ourselves is that we are good people. I'm not saying goodness doesn't exist, but most of the time we define our goodness by comparing ourselves to people we think are worse than us. We create this image of ourselves as kind, forgiving, generous people whose hearts are naturally inclined towards being good.

But then life happens.

Somebody betrays you. Somebody hurts you deeply. Somebody leaves. And suddenly, you discover parts of yourself that you never realized existed. You realize that you can hate. You realize that you can actually wish death on somebody. You wish that somebody suffers the way they made you suffer. You realize that forgiveness is not as easy as it once seemed. You realize that revenge actually makes sense and doesn't seem unreasonable anymore.

And it terrifies you.

For the longest time, I believed I was a good person. I believed I was a kind person. Then I met parts of my heart. Parts that made me unforgiving. Parts capable of resentment. Parts that wanted revenge. Parts that could stay bitter for much longer than I ever imagined.I remember sitting before God recently, saying, "God, You have to help my heart. I can't keep hating like this." And the frightening part was that I hadn't even done anything terrible. It was simply the realization that I was capable of it.

I think this reminds me that we often forget there is a reason God is God and we are not. Yes, we were created in His image. God is good, and we are called to reflect His goodness. But we are also fallen humans, and that is why there is a limit to our goodness, because our hearts are still being transformed.Left to ourselves, we are capable of far more darkness than we would like to admit.

I think that's why Scripture says, "The heart is deceitful above all things." It doesn't say some people's hearts. It simply says the heart.I feel like true maturity begins the day we stop pretending that we are incapable of wickedness.I also think one of our biggest mistakes is our desire to be perceived as good people. Maybe instead of trying so hard to make everyone see us as "good," we should simply remember that we are human. Because the person who believes they could never hate is often the one who never notices when hatred begins to grow. The person who thinks they could never be cruel may never notice when cruelty quietly finds a place in their heart.

Humility is not saying, "Oh, I could never do such things.”

Humility is saying, "Without God's grace, I really don't know what I'm capable of."

I think one of the most dangerous things we can do is believe we are incapable of wickedness. Because the moment you start believing that, you stop watching your heart. You stop paying attention to what is growing inside of you. I don't think every human being is evil. But I do think every human heart has a capacity for evil that we often underestimate. That's why I believe we need God's grace every single day, not just to forgive us when we fall, but to constantly shape our hearts into His.

If you're that person right now, just as I am, I pray that God heals your heart before it becomes the very thing you condemn in others.

And this week, my prayer for you is simple: may God touch your heart. May He make it softer, gentler, and more like His.

Thank you for always reading. See you next week.

Bye. I love you!❤️

Hi, my love.

It's currently 12:48 in the morning (or night, idk what to call it) and I'm at the laundry room in my hostel. Today's the 29th of May and I can't really remember when last it was that I wrote to you. But I'm starting this letter because I know I'm going to send it out on the last day of this semester. And because I know I'm going to get back on my feet and start writing to you again till the year ends? Amen? Amen.

My exams start next week actually, and I'm very anxious about them. Like I said in my previous letter, depression and executive dysfunction dealt with me a lot this semester, and I just feel like I'm very behind on a lot of things. I'm panicking so much, but at the same time, I'm reminding myself that God cannot bring me this far to now abandon me. Ati o. Ko possible. And the funny thing was that this week was one that I didn't know I'd survive, but look, it's already Friday. If that's not proof of God being in this story, what then is?

I should actually start reading once it's 1:00 AM, but I'm a little bit burnt out. So before then, let's talk about life a bit. I started posting on TikTok and, for someone that's so self-conscious, I'm having so much fun with it. I'm currently learning that certain people in our lives are actually for a particular season, and it's such a hard pill to swallow. These days, I sit back and reflect on how much I have changed as a person and it makes me quite happy and proud of myself. Sometimes (when depression rears its head), I'm not pleased with my life and I feel very unlucky. And sometimes, who cares about being lucky when you have God? Cliche, but trust me.

I love how involved God is in my life sha. I see Him in the little and big details. I realized this week that I can sing much better than I did this time last year and it makes me so proud. Even though I'm not very serious with my training, the little I do is really showing.

Omo, it's 1:04 AM. I need to read! This might be the longest letter you'd read from me yet. Stay tuned, byeee!

‎

Hi, my love.

It's the first of June and happy new month, i guess. The last month ended on a very bad note for me sha. My grandma went to be with the Lord and it was literally the most heartbreaking thing for me. Days prior to that day btw, I was just extremely sad and tired and I cried for hours. It was depression caused by PMS sha, but that didn't deny the fact that those feelings were there. It was such a long week for me and it just felt like the devil was trying so hard to steal my joy. But I have decided that enough is enough.

I started this month with a phone call that was so timely, and the news I got kind of reassured me that God really wants me to be a pharmacist. That's reassuring cause I mean, it's exam period and I'm kinda panicking. But I was reminded this morning of God's faithfulness. And this had me singing hymns for close to an hour. I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but I love love hymns bro. Anyways, that's all for now. Byee!

Hi, my love.

It's Tuesday, 2nd of June and my exams start in two days and I don't feel as prepared as I should be. And guess what? I'm still not panicking. I guess I just want to get this semester over with, one way or the other.

I woke up quite late today, that's because I slept late. And I started my day with T30 devotion. I love it and I love being in that space so much. The praise session was fye and I'm just glad I could partake in it.

I spent a large part of my morning thinking of all the people I owe birthday gifts, btw. I have been so broke for most part of this year that I couldn't get gifts for my friends and it's something that has been weighing on me. Sha sha, I got some lovely ideas and I'm so excited to execute them.

These days, I'm starting to learn that not every act of "kindness" is inherently kind. Some are performative, some have bad intentions hidden behind them, and it's just so scary. Cause why do I have to start trying to read people's minds? Well, thank God for the Holy Spirit.

Um, bye for now?

Hii my love,

It's Day 1 of exams and my Toxicology exam went pretty well. Today started on a rough note, with rumors about unknown men invading my school and all that. I mean, people were awake by 4:00 AM panicking. But it was just a rumor ig? But that happening kind of put things in perspective for me, and I realize that as long as you are in this country, never say it can't be you. Like, anybody is liable to becoming a statistic at any time, and that's the scary part.

It's Day 2 of exams, omo! They used my class to set past questions oh, but as my classmates said, God said "let there be light and there was light!"

Today was supposed to be my inauguration for my appointed position. Oh wait, I didn't tell you guys oh, but I'm the Public Health Director for the second time! Somebody should glorayyyy! Sha, they shifted the inauguration because of the rain.

I made a very cute TikTok today and I felt so proud of myself! Cause for someone that's just trying to get a hold of how TikTok works, I think I tried with that video.

Also, today kind of confirmed my fears about Nigeria. I feel like one person cannot actually solve Nigeria's problems and we shouldn't stop looking for a "Messiah" or "Saviour" in any politician fr. I also think it's kind of mocking that it's these same people that aren't doing right, that are telling us to keep praying. That statement literally ragebaits me man!

It's 14 days to the end of 400 level, and my love, I cannot wait to be done. This year is actually going to go down as my toughest year in pharmacy school. It took that position from 200 level.

Hi, my love.

Today's Monday and the third day of exams. Today's exam was a very dangerous one and I'm so glad that I'm done with it.

Hi, my love!

Its 3:01 in the morning. Today is June 12th (Democracy Day?) but sha I have an SAP exam and to be honest, I am tired of reading. Today, I thought about the fact that I still have two more years in this school and I was actually overwhelmed by the mere thought. Like, when does it end?

But one thing I have realized is that time passes so fast and we wouldn't even realize. Cause tell me why I still have vivid memories from 100 level and I'm entering 500 level in a matter of days. It's really crazy o.

Hi, my love!

It's 1:48 AM, today's June 15th and I just finished writing a letter to someone. I think friendships are actually so beautiful and we don't really pay attention to them. We're in a generation where everybody wants to be in love. And while that is not bad at all, we need to pay more attention to our platonic relationships too fr.

Hi, my love,

It’s 9:27 p.m. Today is the 15th of June, and I just wrote my eighth exam of 400 level second semester. It was Pharmaceutical Chemistry.

Chemistry still gives me a lot of anxiety. I think it’s because of my shaky background with it from the beginning, so every time I write it, there’s always this extra weight in my chest. I did my best today, like genuinely my best, but I can’t stop overthinking what I wrote. I keep going over the questions in my head, wondering if I got things right or if I missed something obvious. But I’ve thanked God, as usual. I’ve handed it over.

What’s really sitting in my mind though is that in two days, I’m going to become a 500-level student. Like… penultimate. It still feels strange saying it out loud. I can still remember 100 level so clearly, and now I’m here. So many things have changed, but at the same time, I still feel like I’m the same person deep down. I’m happy, but it’s mixed. It always feels like that when something is ending and something else is beginning.

I also thought about the fact that throughout this semester's exams, I haven't been able to do a marathon night reading, and it really shows how tired I am. Omo, two more days sha!

Then there’s something else I’ve been thinking about. I don’t like confronting people. I really don’t. So most times, when something hurts me, I just keep it in. And maybe that’s why I sometimes feel like it could be abandonment issues or something like that. Because for me to actually speak up about something already takes a lot. So if I finally do, and the person just dismisses it or doesn’t take it seriously… it hurts more than I can explain. It makes me just go quiet.

And I’ve also been thinking about how selfish people can be. I understand that everyone has to look out for themselves, that’s just life. But sometimes it feels like people only care about what benefits them and nothing else. Like there’s no real consideration for the next person. I’ve seen it so many times and it’s honestly scary. It makes me wonder what the world is becoming, especially if this is what the younger generation is also learning.

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Hi, my love!

It's 7:35 in the morning and guess what today is?

Yeah, you guessed right. The day I become a 500-level student!

I remember being in 200 level when our first set started clinicals and they got their scrubs. I told myself that day that my "future ambition" was to get to 500 level and get my scrubs. I guess it's time to set another future ambition like this o.

If you asked me what my hardest level in pharmacy school was a year ago, I would have told you without thinking twice that it was 200 level. But somehow, 400 level took that award. This year has been the most challenging year for me. Spiritually, physically, mentally, financially, and even health-wise, I was shaken and pressed on every side fr. But I'm just glad I made it through to the other side. Despite everything!

One thing I learned in this 400 level was the principle of troughs and peaks. I learned so much that you have to go through the pit before you get to the top.

But this year was kind of a blast regardless! I was Director of Public Health, and I think I did a great job. (And I'm about to do it again? ) I was outside a lot, cause tell me why I was spending hours at the pavilion watching ABUAD football league matches? But it's actually good to go outside and touch grass.

I enjoyed some friendships so much that yesterday, while leaving school, I teared up! How would I have survived without my shaylas fr? And of course, some friendships took a sour turn .

I really wish I could write more, but I fear that I might be reaching my word limit. But you guys, 400 level was such a wild ride! Still, I'm forever grateful for God and people. God, because I could feel His love so many times, and I ask myself why do I deserve this. There were days that I cried and asked so many questions, and He'll just reassure me almost immediately. These last few days, I felt extremely "lucky" that I couldn't believe it.

To the God of my fourth year, I'm forever grateful!

Well, ladies and gentlemen, with that being said, guess who is now a clinical pharmacy student? It's been such a long time coming, and I'm so excited for the journey ahead.

And don't worry, we're back in full force by God's grace! So see you next week!

Byeeee.

I love you!❤️

400 Level is finally over. 🥹

I’ve been trying to find the words for everything this season has been, and I think I've finally found them. Tomorrow, I'll be back with what is probably the longest letter I've ever written to you.

For now, I just wanted to share this little piece of joy: I made it.

See you tomorrow. ❤️

Human interaction is often built on an unspoken assumption of fairness, that what is given can also be received. In theory, this balance should guide the way individuals communicate, especially in moments of honesty and criticism. However, in practice, this expectation is frequently undermined. It is common to find individuals who speak freely, criticize easily, and present their thoughts with confidence, yet react negatively when faced with the same treatment. In this essay, I explore the idea that individuals are often unable to receive the same treatment they readily give to others, particularly in the context of honesty and interpersonal communication.

Many individuals move through life with an unshakable confidence in their own voice. They are quick to speak, quick to correct, and quick to criticize, often presenting things “as they are”, or at least as they see them. There is rarely a pause to consider how their words might land. For a long time, this kind of expression can appear admirable. It seems bold, fearless, and honest. To speak without hesitation is often mistaken for strength.

However, as Friedrich Nietzsche suggests, “convictions are more dangerous enemies of truth than lies” (Nietzsche, 1886/2002). What many people present as honesty is often not truth itself, but a rigid attachment to their own perspective, delivered without reflection. In this sense, what appears as boldness may actually be a lack of self-awareness.

This realization is not only philosophical but experiential. For a long time, I found myself on the receiving end of this kind of “honesty.” I am not naturally inclined to speak bluntly or express every thought exactly as it comes. Because of this, I often viewed myself as weaker or at a disadvantage compared to those who did. Their words, though sometimes too sharp to be considered harmless, were dismissed as jokes. Their criticisms, though uncomfortable, were normalized. Like many others, I accepted this pattern, believing it to be a standard form of communication.

That belief remained unchallenged until the moment I responded in the same tone.

It was not planned. In an ordinary interaction, I expressed myself with the same directness I had previously received. I expected nothing unusual, only a continuation of what had always been acceptable. Instead, the reaction was immediate. Suddenly, I was perceived as harsh. My words were labeled unnecessary, and I was accused of crossing a boundary that had never been clearly defined. The same behavior that had been justified as “being real” was now considered inappropriate.

This contradiction reflects what Aristotle described in his theory of virtue as a balance between extremes (Aristotle, trans. 2009). Honesty, when expressed without restraint but expected to be received with sensitivity, becomes an imbalance rather than a virtue. It ceases to function as a moral good and instead becomes a tool of convenience.

In that moment, it became evident that some individuals are comfortable with imbalance, provided it benefits them. It is easy to speak without restraint when one is not the subject of the consequences. It is equally easy to justify harshness when it carries no personal cost. However, genuine honesty requires more than expression, it requires accountability.

As Immanuel Kant argues through his principle of universality, one should act only according to maxims that could be applied consistently to all (Kant, 1785/1993). If an individual cannot accept being treated in the same manner they treat others, then their actions fail this standard of moral consistency. In such cases, what is presented as honesty is not principled, but selective.

What I once interpreted as strength began to reveal itself as a form of fragility.

This shift in perspective led to a deeper understanding of communication and fairness. Not everyone who speaks boldly is prepared to be spoken to in return. Not every pattern that appears normal is just. Furthermore, silence should not always be mistaken for acceptance; at times, it is simply patience. Central to this realization is the importance of delivery. The manner in which words are expressed is as significant as the words themselves. Honesty should not be used as justification for insensitivity or disregard.

I no longer believe in accepting what cannot be returned. When individuals consistently communicate in ways they themselves would reject, their behavior cannot be defended as honesty. Rather, it reflects an imbalance that undermines mutual respect.

Ultimately, the assumption that what is given can also be received does not always hold true in human interaction. As this essay has demonstrated, many individuals are willing to express honesty and criticism, yet unwilling to receive it in equal measure. This imbalance challenges the authenticity of what is often labeled as honesty. Therefore, if honesty is to remain a virtue rather than a convenience, it must be mutual, grounded not only in the freedom to speak, but also in the willingness to receive. As Confucius taught, one should not impose on others what one does not wish for oneself (Confucius, trans. 1979). Only through this mutual accountability can communication achieve true fairness.

They say the “Executive” is the part of the brain that gets things done. For the last few months, mine has been on an indefinite, unpaid leave of absence. People talk about burnout like it’s a flickering candle. For me, it felt more like being dropped into a war zone,realizing, too late, that I was completely unarmed. I could see the bullets coming, deadlines, expectations, responsibilities,but I had no way to shield myself or fight back.

So let’s take it back to the beginning.

I started this year on a good note. I was consistent, with my devotion, with prayer, with the things that grounded me. There was structure. There was intention. I felt like myself. Then somewhere in the middle of exams, everything shifted. I got sick and I got tired. And this was not the kind of tired that sleep fixed.I told myself it was just burnout. That I needed rest. So I rested.

But nothing changed.

In fact, those days in my room turned into something heavier. I found myself stuck, thinking, overthinking, doing nothing, and feeling worse because of it. It wasn’t that I didn’t know what to do. It was that I couldn’t make myself start, or continue, or sometimes even care enough to try. And the saddest part was watching my own life slowly fall apart from a distance, unable to do anything about it.

There were times I felt like a victim of my own problems. Sometimes I would be in a place of prayer, and it was so difficult for me to concentrate. All I could say was, “Oh God, please help me, I can’t help myself.” Because after all, someone who is drowning cannot save themselves. And yes, there were many times I felt like I was drowning, and I couldn’t pull myself out.I think one of the biggest problems was that I suffered in silence for a very long time. I just felt like nobody would understand what I was going through.

If I were to name it, I would say it was a combination of burnout and executive dysfunction. Executive dysfunction is more like a clinical or therapy term, often linked to ADHD—attention deficit hyperactivity disorder—or similar conditions. And, then there was depression. Because every morning I woke up, the first thought in my head was: “When does it end?” No motivation. No will to do anything. Just existing and waiting for the day to pass. And I just knew, this is what it is.

One thing I’ve learned through all of this is that anger is a poison. Bottling things up doesn’t help. And it’s important to guard your heart, what you allow in, what you carry, what you expose yourself to.

At some point, I couldn’t stay silent anymore. So I spoke up. I told a friend one random morning. I said it plainly, as it was, that I wasn't okay. And I also spoke to someone I look up to and we talked at length. She told me she had realized that social media can be very toxic. That constantly consuming negativity slowly builds anger. And that anger, if unchecked, turns into sadness.

If you know me, you know that one of my favourite apps is Twitter. I love it because it has shaped my thinking in many ways. But I had to be honest with myself, it was affecting my mental health. Most of the time, it was one negative thing after another. Stories of injustice, violence, pain—things that naturally make you angry.

The problem is, not everything is yours to react to. Not everything is yours to carry. But when you keep taking it in, it changes how you see the world. You become more cynical.

But I’ve also learned that anger isn’t entirely bad. Sometimes it’s necessary. Sometimes you need to speak up. It is important that you "crash out" sometimes. It is important that when people do things that you don't like, you speak up. Because when you keep keeping things to yourself, it builds resentment within your heart, which is mostly harmful to your own mind and not even the other person. Most of the time, people just do things and move on with their lives, while you are left there bottling up that anger and letting it rot your peace.

So I made a decision. I deleted Twitter. Immediately. Without overthinking it. And yes, the fear of missing out was real. But I did it anyway. And I feel better for it. Because I’m not constantly angry anymore. I can live my life without that constant background noise.

Another thing this person told me was about gratitude. That maybe I had stopped seeing reasons to be grateful because of everything I was consuming and carrying. That day, as I was leaving her place, I kept saying, “Thank you, God. I do not take my life for granted.” Because I started thinking back, and I just felt… foolish. For forgetting the mercies of God. Turns out I and the Israelites are alike.

There is not one person that beats God when it comes to intentionality. And His love runs wider than all your mistakes, your setbacks, your dark seasons. I was reading my devotional recently, and it spoke about how sometimes in dark seasons, you have to learn to hide in cave, not in avoidance, but in stillness. In dependence. In reflection.I think that’s what this season has been. I’m learning once again that the God on the mountains is still God in the valley. The God of the peaks is the God of the troughs.

C.S. Lewis in his book, “The Screwtape Letters”, writes about these "trough" periods in the spiritual life. He explains that God (the "Enemy" in the eyes of the demons in his book) allows these troughs because He doesn't want to just override our wills. He wants us to learn to walk. Lewis writes:

"He leaves the creature to stand up on its own legs—to carry out from the will alone duties which have lost all relish... Our cause is never more in danger than when a human, no longer desiring, but still intending, to do our Enemy's will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys."

That part about duties having "lost all relish" hit home. That is what executive dysfunction feels like, the relish, the desire, the motivation is gone. But the intention remains.

Everything feels like a battle. But I know where I stand. I’m trying to rebuild. I think my executive function—my ability to simply do things—is slowly coming back. I’m putting structures in place again. I deleted Twitter. I reduced what I expose my mind to. I’m trying to return to my devotion again, consistently, maybe not perfectly, but intentionally. Even school itself… I’m putting structure in place again because tests are looming.

Honestly, I don’t know what the ending of this season looks like yet. Sometimes I still worry about time, about what feels like time wasted. But I also know something else now: that all things work together for the good of those who love God.

And I do love God, it's all I know.

If my life is a company, then maybe this is what interim management looks like: not a perfect turnaround, but small, steady decisions that move things in the right direction again.

Hi, my love! How are you doing? It’s been a long while.

A few years ago, when my aunt died, the first thing that struck me was not the reality of death itself. It was something much smaller, almost embarrassingly small.

I realized I did not have a picture of her. Not even one.

I loved my aunt very much. I still do. And yet our entire relationship existed only in those brief moments when we happened to see each other at family gatherings or special programs. I had never called her. I never had her number. I never made the effort to reach out when she was not physically present.

Somewhere in my mind, I had simply assumed that we would always see each other again.I imagined the future so casually. I thought we would talk again at another family gathering. I thought she would be there at my convocation, maybe even at my induction, or someday at my wedding.

But suddenly, there would be no next time.

What made it painful was not just the loss. It was the quiet realization that I could have done more before that moment came. I could have asked someone for her number. I could have called her through my parents. I could have simply made the effort. But like many of us do, I believed there would always be another day. Another gathering. Another opportunity to see my aunt.

That experience has stayed with me. Recently, it returned to my mind when I saw a tweet that inspired this today's letter. It made me think about something deeply uncomfortable, but undeniably true:

Many of us live and love as though tomorrow is guaranteed. We believe we will always have another opportunity to do what we should have done today.

One thing I have come to realize is that I never want the last thing I say to someone to be cruel, careless, or unkind. I never want someone to wake up one day and realize that the last memory they have of me is an argument or a harsh word.I do not think I would forgive myself.

And yet, this is how many of us live. We fight with the people we love and go to sleep angry because we assume the next morning will give us the chance to fix it. We delay apologies because we want to be right. We refuse to say what we feel because vulnerability frightens us.

So we postpone love.

We miss someone, but we do not tell them. We believe we can always say it later. There will always be another weekend to call, another day to reconnect, another moment to make things right.

But life does not promise that.

Another truth we rarely admit is that sometimes we treat the people we love carelessly because we assume they will always be there. We love them casually, inconsistently, sometimes even selfishly, because somewhere in our minds we believe their presence is permanent.

But nobody’s life pauses for us to finally realize that we should have loved them better.

People grow. People change. People begin to understand their worth. And the patience they once had for our carelessness may not always remain the same. The tolerance people once had for our pride, our silence, or even our emotional laziness can fade with time.

So when we say we will love people better “later,” we forget that later may arrive when they are no longer the same person we once took for granted. And sometimes, later arrives when they are no longer there at all.

Lately, I have found myself thinking about death and dying more than usual. Not in a way meant to frighten anyone reading this, but simply because exhaustion sometimes makes you reflect on the fragility of things.

This week especially, I realized how unusually tired I have been in almost every area of my life. The kind of tired where even small things feel difficult. The kind of tired where I cannot even bring myself to write out my timetable for the semester—which, for me, is very unusual. Sometimes life is like that, I guess.

But that exhaustion has made me realize something strange about human nature: even when we know tomorrow is not guaranteed, we still behave as though it is.

If I am honest, I do not live every day believing I will die tomorrow. Most of us do not. Perhaps we cannot. Maybe we need that quiet illusion in order to function. But because of it, we allow ourselves to postpone the things that matter most.

We postpone kindness.

We postpone forgiveness.

We postpone honesty.

And most of all, we postpone love.

The tragedy of human relationships is not that love is rare. Love exists everywhere—around us and within us. The tragedy is that we treat it like something we can always return to later. We assume there will always be time.

But time is the one thing none of us actually control.

This realization has started to change the way I want to live. I know I am someone who easily keeps grudges. Sometimes confrontation feels exhausting, so it is easier to stay silent than to address what hurts. It is easier to withdraw than to resolve things.

But I do not want to live that way anymore. Tomorrow is not guaranteed for me, and it is not guaranteed for the people I love either. So I do not want to leave words unsaid. I do not want to withhold love simply because pride tells me to wait. I do not want to carry grudges simply because confrontation is uncomfortable.

I want to love now.

I want to live now.

And this realization goes beyond my relationships with people. It also reaches into my relationship with God.

Lately, I have become aware that my relationship with God has not been as intentional as it should be. For a long time now, it hasn’t been. And in many ways, it circles back to the exhaustion I mentioned earlier. Sometimes I postpone the things I know I should do spiritually. I tell myself that this is just a phase, that it will pass, and that later I will have more time to grow closer to God and do better.

But what if there isn’t?

The thought that troubles me the most is not death itself.

It is the possibility of reaching the end of my life and realizing that I could have loved more, lived more honestly, and drawn closer to God than I allowed myself to.

That would hurt far more than death.

Because years ago, when my aunt died, the thing that haunted me most was not just that she was gone. It was the quiet realization that I had lived as though there would always be another moment to love her better. Another call. Another visit. Another memory. But there was not.

Because tomorrow was never something we were promised.

Last weekend, I was supposed to write this letter. It was meant to be a simple reflective piece, a letter to you like I usually do. But I couldn't write because I was overwhelmed, by being in school, by responsibilities, and by the quiet weight of existing in a reality I wasn’t entirely happy with. To put it simply , I was in a funk and so, I didn’t write. And somehow, this feels like the most fitting introduction to this piece about Runaway.

Runaway is a song by my friend Dorae — someone I’ve known since my senior secondary school days. I have known her for quite a number of years now, and ever since then, there was always something different about her. Something bright. Something that felt like it was only a matter of time before the world saw it too. And this song feels like the beginning of something beautiful. But today, I’m not here to talk about Dorae, the person. I want to you to sit with this song with me.

The first line says it plainly: “I really want to run away.”

When I first heard that line, it was like I finally found words for how I felt but didn’t know how to say out loud. Because, yes, at that time, I wanted to run away. From school(I didn't go home for the two-week break they gave us and it was a very somehow experience for me). I wanted to be free from expectations. From the quiet pressure of constantly becoming. I didn’t want to disappear entirely. I just wanted relief.

For someone with a mind like mine, I have always been a fan of escapism. That is the truth.I read to escape. I sleep to escape. I watch movies to escape. You know escapism gets a bad reputation sometimes, but honestly, sometimes it is not irresponsibility.Sometimes people are just tired.

So, when I first listened to Runaway, I thought it was simply about freedom, leaving, disappearing into some distant place untouched by the “sore swords” of each day. A world with no panic, no struggle, no stain.But the more I listened to the song, the more the lyrics began to shift in meaning for me.

“Raise my dead soul.”

“Flow in my white.”

“Nothing fit stain me again.”

“Mo ti bo, hallelujah.”

And suddenly, it was no longer just about disappearing. It sounded like transformation. As a Christian girl who somehow sees God in everything, sometimes annoyingly so, I could not ignore the resurrection language in those lines. White garments. Cleansing. A dead soul rising. Hallelujah. Arrival. That “no man’s world” no longer sounded like a distant fantasy.

Yes, the song starts as a desire to escape pain. But it ends as a testimony, not of absence, but of renewal.Because when I say I want to run away from school or from pressure, what I really mean is not that I want to stop existing. I want to be free. Free from heaviness.Free from the version of myself that feels tired and small.Free from the stains that seem to linger.

That's why I have come to realize that the deepest form of escapism is not even avoidance. It is hope. It has to be hope. Hope that one day, spiritually, emotionally, or eternally, we will truly say:

I am free.

Nothing can stain me again.

As a Christian, again, I cannot help but think of heaven when I listen to this song. The ultimate runaway. Not a reckless escape, but a movement from a broken world into wholeness. A place where sadness, sickness, disappointment, and striving finally lose their hold.Not me running away from life, but life finally giving way to restoration.

That is why I love this song so much. It reminds me that I am not weak for wanting relief. I am human. And maybe the desire to run is also a compass, pointing me toward the deeper rest my soul has always been searching for. So, thank you, Dorae, for writing something this honest and this beautiful. Thank you for also asking me to do this, I feel honored!

And beyond the lyrics, the melody, the chants, the feeling of the song, everything about it carries light. Every time I listen to it, I still pause and think:

Oh my God. I know this star.

That is why today feels like the perfect day to say that. Because today is International Women's Day, and it feels fitting to celebrate a woman who is brave enough to create, to sing, and to tell her own story through music. I'm super proud of you, my queen!

I will leave the link to Runaway below. Go and stream it. You might just find the kind of freedom you didn’t know you were looking for.

Happy Sunday and Happy IWD once again, my love!❤️ I love you and Jesus loves you more! See you soon.

‎Flesh, water, blood, bone.

‎

‎I am my mother’s daughter.

‎The scars that line her back,

‎they line mine too.

‎L’owo pankere ati abara.

‎

‎I am my mother’s daughter.

‎They said I inherited not only her genes,

‎but even her nervous system.

‎

‎I am my mother’s daughter.

‎Before I had a body of my own,

‎I had hers.

‎Before my nerves were mine,

‎They were hers.

‎

‎I am my mother’s daughter.

‎If she trembled, I must have learned how.

‎My anxiety was hers before it became mine.

‎Passed down to me like a heirloom.

‎

‎I am my mother’s daughter.

‎I carry her tension in my shoulders.

‎But I also carry her voice.

‎Low, rich, steady,

‎An alto that does not shake.

‎Even when my hands do.

‎

‎I am definitely my mother’s daughter.

‎I don’t give myself enough credit.

‎My mother doesn’t give me enough credit.

‎My mother doesn’t give herself enough credit.

‎

‎I am my mother’s daughter.

‎She works herself to the bone for approval.

‎So do I.

‎That’s how we were both taught.

‎”Your worth is measured by the strength of your hands, obinrin ni e!”

‎

‎I am my mother’s daughter.

‎She says rest comes after the work is done.

‎But maami, the work is never done.

‎

‎Did God not rest on the seventh day?

‎Or does rest belong only to those who have finished everything?

‎

‎I am my mother’s daughter.

‎My hands never still, my mind never quiet.

‎Guilt creeps in when I pause too long.

‎It’s almost impossible for me to “calm down”

‎

‎I am my mother’s daughter.

‎But I want to be more.

‎I know I can be more.

‎I will be more.

‎I will rest, even when the work is not done.

‎I will breathe, even when the weight is heavy.

‎I will be worth more than what my hands can do.

‎So will you, maami.

‎

Happy International Women's Day to all the women who came before us and the women we are becoming. May we know them, may we love them, may we be them.❤️

‎Because not too long ago, the same thing happened to me. And it wasn’t even the first time.And you know, it just makes you think, what’s the point? Why do I even bother with these people? If you’ve ever been love bombed, I know you know it’s a deeply traumatizing experience. One that leaves you questioning yourself, wondering if something is wrong with you. The crazy thing is—you’re not the problem, my dear.

‎And, for context, love bombing is a form of emotional abuse.

‎Anyway, this babe made a statement to distinguish between love bombing and real love. She said:

‎“If it’s too good to be true, it’s because it is too good to be true. With love bombing, the love and affection decrease with time. Genuine interest, on the other hand, grows with time.”

‎As I read that tweet, something dropped into my heart: God will not love bomb you. I literally shouted.

‎Now let’s think about it.

‎Yes, I know—God’s love is too good to be true. Because what do you mean Christ died for me even while I was still a sinner?

‎“But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8)

‎That kind of love doesn’t make sense. It’s overwhelming. Almost suspicious. Just like love bombing.

‎But here’s the difference.

‎God’s love does not reduce with time, or with our bad character. It doesn’t depend on how well we behave or how perfectly we reciprocate. Whether we respond or not, He loves us still.

‎“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning.” (Lamentations 3:22–23)

‎If we’re being honest, we can never meet God at the same level of love He pours out to us.

‎The beauty of the Christian journey is that we grow into our love walk with God.

‎“But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.” (2 Peter 3:18)

‎Real love grows. It's not "perfect" at first. It deepens. It matures.

‎

‎I also came across another tweet that buttressed this point even further:

‎“Love is patient because it trusts that it’s here for a long time. It’s willing to take the time to prove itself. When people bombard you, it’s often because they lack the stamina to stay committed long-term and want to convert you quickly before their slip-ups show.”

‎Scripture says the same thing, really.

‎“Love is patient, love is kind.” (1 Corinthians 13:4)

‎Patience is proof of longevity.

‎The difference between God and your narcissist babe is that God knows He’s here for a long time. And because of that, He waits.

‎“The Lord is not slow in keeping His promise… but is patient with you.” (2 Peter 3:9)

‎There are no flaws God needs to cover, so He doesn’t need to impress you. He has already done everything that needed to be done—giving up Jesus for us. All that’s left is for us to realize this truth and begin to love Him back.

‎God won’t rush you into committing to Him. He won’t override your self-will.

‎“Here I am! I stand at the door and knock.” (Revelation 3:20)

‎Notice, He knocks. He doesn’t break the door down.

‎

‎In The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis explains that one of the key differences between God and the devil is this: God never tries to override your will. While God desires intimacy with you, He will never isolate you from your support system. In fact, He often strengthens it.

‎“Let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds… not giving up meeting together.” (Hebrews 10:24–25)

‎Because He made you, and He knows you’re wired for connection.

‎God is patient enough to wait until you come to the realization that loving Him is the safest and best thing you can do for yourself. He may drop hints, yes—but He will never force your hand.

‎“I have set before you life and death… now choose life.” (Deuteronomy 30:19)

‎It might sound like I’m repeating myself at this point, but I just really want this to sink in. God will not love bomb you.

‎

‎Finally, let me introduce you to the Cycle of Abuse:

‎•Idealization – You’re bombarded with affection and attention.

‎•Devaluation – Once control is gained, affection is withdrawn. Gaslighting and manipulation begin.

‎•Discard – When you try to set boundaries or ask questions, they abruptly end things or ghost you, leaving you confused and self-blaming.

‎•Hoovering – They may attempt to return, restarting the cycle.

‎My love, God’s love does not work in cycles.

‎“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” (Hebrews 13:8)

‎There is no idealize–discard rhythm with Him. There is no shadow of turning with Him.

‎To end this letter, I want you to know this:

‎No matter how many times it happens, you rarely get used to recognizing love bombing. There is nothing wrong with you for falling for it—again and again. One day, you will experience the gentle, safe love you deserve.

‎But until then, I hope you cling to the One who will never love bomb you. Love up on Him today, it'll be totally worth.

‎Happy Valentine’s Day, my love. ❤️

‎

‎P.S: I finished my first semester exams yesterday and to be honest, in my history of writing exams, this one has been one of my best yet! I'm just so grateful to God! 'Cause day after day, He keeps showing me that I can really trust Him with my life.🥹

‎

January is ending today, and I feel like it’s been like we’ve spent six months in this year because I’ve learned so much just in a month.

Anyways, my exams for first semester started this week and it has been good so far. I mean, I wrote a four-unit course paper yesterday and it went well. As a matter of fact, saying it went well is kind of an understatement. But I’m just grateful to God because weeks ago, I was very anxious about this exam.

The subject of today's letter is something that has been bugging and bothering me for a while now, and it is the fact that some people— or not just some people— people feel the need to perform. I know that we are human, and it’s kind of part of the human condition to want to seek attention, to want to seek validation, to not want to be left out. And it’s quite possible that this would make you perform just to be accepted by people or to get what you want from people. But then, it bothers me a lot, the way people feel the need to perform so strongly. I don’t know if you get my point. I feel like a lot of people are not showing their true selves anymore.

There are three types of performance that people exhibit that I want to talk about, or performativity, whatever you want to call it.

The first one is people who try to perform spiritually. I understand that as a Christian, you are supposed to shine your light like a Christian. People are supposed to know that you’re a Christian in what you say, in your actions, in your presence, in what you post on social media. I understand that.

But personally, I really do not see the need to perform by posting Bible verses or sermons every time when you are not exactly leading that kind of life secretly, in your secret place. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a bad thing. We’re all growing and nobody’s perfect. But I’ve realized that most of the people you see bombarding their WhatsApp status or whatever social media with these things are not really good people— good in quotes. Most of the time, they have bad character. I don’t know how to put it better than that.

It’s okay for everyone to “show forth their light”, but it’s a different thing when you and I know, and you and God also know, that you are not living the life God wants you to live. Then you are just using falsehood and deception. You might deceive others, but you can’t deceive yourself, and you definitely can’t deceive God.

One of my biggest fears as a person, as a Christian, which is why sometimes I tend to tone down how much I talk about God or being a Christian, is the fear of telling people to do things that I’m not doing in private. At the end of the day, I don’t want to be found guilty of the things I preach or teach. It’s scary, and that’s why most times I’d rather keep quiet

P.S: This is actually a slippery slope. And this fear shouldn't stop me from doing I'ma supposed to do.

The next one I want to talk about is performative kindness.

My dear, you and I know that you are very selfish and self-centered. You don’t really like to put out much. You’re not a giver; you’re a pathological taker. You take from your friends, from people around you. That’s basically your pathology and physiology.

But then you meet people who are not exactly your close friends, and because they don’t know you well, and you realize you can get something from them, you switch to niceness— doing things for them, very transactional kindness.It’s very devilish, and mind my language, but I just feel like as a person, you might be possessed.

See, I always say embrace your true self. If you’re a wicked person, embrace it. Don’t deceive us. One thing “manipulative” people don’t realize is that people actually see things. You can’t hide your character forever; it will show. People see things you think they don’t. You think you’re smart and you can play people, but trust me, some people are not dumb.

The third category is performative intellectuals, or pseudo-intellectuals.

I understand that not everybody is intellectually inclined, and not everybody will be broad when it comes to knowledge. That’s fine. I’m not saying you should embrace ignorance. But it’s not everybody that will be Einstein, and that’s okay. The issue is when you need help, when you don’t know something, but you’re posing like you’re the smartest person in the world. One thing I’ve learned about performativity is that it won’t allow you to grow. You won’t believe you need help anymore. You’ll think you’re already good. And in the end, it’s to your detriment because the things you’re supposed to learn, people won’t teach you. People that are supposed to give you things won’t give you because they think you already have it.

An honourable mention is performative humility.

It can mean putting yourself down so others don’t feel bad. I don’t think anyone should do that. Don’t undermine your efforts because of anybody. If someone compliments you, say thank you. I’m not saying you should boast, but if you’ve done something well, talk about it. Inspire others. Like Tami said in her last letter, your life is not only your own. People are watching you whether you like it or not. Some people will learn through your life.

Another form of performative humility is trying to appear humble, but the subtext of your statements or actions is pride. At first it looks like humility, but when scrutinized, it’s full of pride.

All these things stress me because I don’t think anyone should be performing like this. It’s stressful. I can’t even pretend to like someone I don’t like. You’d know it. I wear my emotions on my sleeve.

Just embrace who you are and let God help you become better. You don’t have to perform for God— He already accepts you and helps you change. And you don’t need to perform for people either, cause to be frank and sincere, nobody is important enough for you to be performing for them.

I’ll end this with Scripture, because the Bible has already said all of this better than I ever could. God has never been impressed by performance. He has always been drawn to truth and honesty. The kind that comes bare, unfiltered, and willing to change.

The Bible says, “The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” (1 Samuel 16:7)

So my hope is that in the coming days of this year, you’ll learn to choose honesty over performance, truth over appearance, and growth over pretending. I hope you’ll learn to be real with God, with yourself, and with people — because that’s where freedom actually begins.

The next time you’ll be hearing from me, I'll be done with exams and it'll be Valentine's day. I'm actually excited about that day ‘cause I wrote the letter since the beginning of this year.🤭

Anyways, see you in 14 days! I love you, bye!❤️

— Psalm 42:1.

I’m not desperate enough.

There is this level of desperation that I’ve seen people show that I kind of covet. Maybe not covet, but I admire it.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a very ambitious person, and I am goal-oriented. And because of that, because of the goals that I have, which are big goals, by the way, I am a staunch believer of working hard. I don’t believe that things just happen. I believe in the work of my hands and I believe in God. But I don’t think I’m desperate enough to want something and do everything, everything possible, to get that thing. By all means. Whether right or wrong. Whether moral or immoral. Whether legal or illegal.

This is why I think I’m not desperate enough.

I have seen situations where people I know were qualified for something. I believed they were going to get it. But because they weren’t so sure, or they didn’t believe in themselves as much as I believed in them, they tried to look for illegal means to achieve those things. I’ve seen it play out so many times, and I just wonder, wow, you must be so desperate.

And I don’t think I am desperate enough.

Because even though I am ambitious and I want to achieve things, I think I’ve come to realize that sometimes you can’t control the results. It’s probably a side-effect of having so many waiting period. I have learnt that you can’t control what happens. That, although my efforts are important, my life is not exactly in my hands. So I’m not desperate enough to try and do everything I can to achieve something. Why should I even be that desperate, though, when I can just rest and rely on God? Yes, it sounds lazy, I know.

But then there are times when some things happen, and I’m just like, is it because I did not try and make this thing work by all means?Naturally, I’m a tired person. And it’s not even just physical. I get tired of things easily. If I’m pursuing something and it doesn’t seem to work out, I lose interest very easily. I’m not good at chasing things, or people, for so long.

So I just feel like I lack that sense of desperation to an extent. I admire it in people, although I don’t think I would want it. Because there’s a thin line between being desperate and… I don’t know… just trying to do things by all means. I don’t know the exact word for that.

But then there is one thing that I am desperate for.

God.

It might sound cliché. Or I don’t know, why do we always set God into everything abi?

But since this year started, I’ve just found myself yearning for God. I can’t even lie, honestly. I’m trying to find God in everything, everywhere. Literally. I’m desperate. It’s just what I want.

I was reading A.W Tozer the other day. By the way, you guys, I love A. W. Tozer. I love him so much. Anyway, I was reading his book, and he said something about the fact that every pursuit of God that man has originates from God. He says that God is always previous. I mean, it’s literally said that we love God because He first loved us. So every longing, every reaching, it starts with Him.

And I was thinking about that, thinking about my “desperation” for God, and it became a wonder to me. God loves me sooo much, and because of that, I’m loving Him this much.It doesn’t make sense. Logically, it really doesn’t. Honestly, it feels like I’m just rambling at this point.

Well, I think I’m not desperate enough. I mean, if you know me, you would really think that I’m not desperate enough. But then, right now, I’m desperate for the one thing that matters. And I think that’s okay.

Happy New Year.

I think the last time I felt any kind of excitement about a new year was 2024. Last year, I was scared. This year feels different. It might sound crazy, but I'm already looking forward to the end of this year. The word is not excitement, not exactly. I don’t know how to explain the feeling yet, but all I know for now is that this year is going significant to me and that's why I’m choosing to treat this year with care. I want to be intentional with the things I do, and the way I do them.

Before I go into today’s letter, I want to share a small update. Letters here will now be coming bi-weekly instead of weekly. You might notice a new logo, which I think is very pretty and chic, by the way, but the name remains the same. Pieces of Chloe is still Pieces of Chloe. This little change is simply about pace. This year, I want to move at a rhythm I can sustain in this season of my life. I’m choosing depth over rushing. I want to slow down, calm down, and write with presence. Of course, there’ll always be times that I'll send letters back to back, but just be expecting my letters twice every month.

So, to the subject of today's letter…

Well, before I go on, I want to say this: sharing “new year tips” is not really my style. I’ve never been a fan of it, because I don’t believe life follows the same script for everyone. What works for one person may not work for another. But I felt impressed in my heart to share these things anyway. So I’m doing this gently , not as rules or as a formula, just as thoughts that have helped me, and that I hope will help you too.

So, tips for this year…

1. Seek God.

The first and most important thing is this: seek God.

A.W. Tozer said, “The man who has God for his treasure has all things in one.”

This year, many of us will be chasing things. Some people already have goals, plans, visions and that’s not a bad thing. I just want to remind you that in the midst of everything, seek God. Make God your possession. God is the source of all things. And once you have the source, you have everything. When you truly have God, you are not lacking, even when it feels like you are.

It’s also important that when we seek God, we don’t seek only what God can give. We seek God Himself, and everything else follows. When we focus only on outcomes, blessings, or answers, that is where our anxieties live. But when we find God, we find everything else inside Him. And even if you gain something and later lose it, if the only thing you truly possess is God, then it would not be a loss that destroys you.

2. Write it down.

Write your goals. Your targets. Your desires. Make vision boards, make prayer boards. I’ve learned over the past two years how powerful this is. Yesterday, I saw someone write a letter to her future self again. If you can do that, do it. If writing feels hard, record a voice note. Take a video. Just document what you hope to see at the end of this year, then return to it when the year ends. Write it down.

3. Journal / Remember.

I won’t place this one on everybody, but I think it’s important. To me, journaling is a form of remembering. It’s like counting your blessings. Because it is very easy to forget, easy to forget how far you’ve come, what you survived, what God did quietly. See, there would have been a reason Moses said “teach us to number our days”. Think about it.

Anyways, this came from a conversation I had with Tami the other day. We were talking about how we’ve somehow forgotten so many parts of our lives. Whole seasons. Whole moments. And it made me realise how easy it is to forget. I went through my journal from 100 level and I realized that I wrote some prayers in that book that had been answered and I didn't even know.😂

You don’t have to journal the “proper” way. It doesn’t have to be neat or aesthetic. You can write a sentence daily. You don't have to write pages. You don't even have to write at all. Take a picture. Record a video. Just keep something you can look back on at the end of the year and say, “Oh. I was in this place. This mattered.”

4. Study to show thyself approved.

I have said this before and it’s one hill that I'll die on. Whatever you do, do it well. If you won't do it well, don't even bother. If you are a student, make excellence your goal. If you are working, do it with all diligence and care. Your relationship with God? Give it your all. And when it comes to friendships, relationships, and family, treat them as a calling. Love your friends well. Love your partner rightly. Honour your family. Care deeply about the people God has entrusted to you.

5. Learn and choose growth.

Before stepping into anything, learn about it. Study it. Prepare. Ask questions. Also, this year, choose growth even when it feels uncomfortable. You should be tired of being in the same spot for so long. Excellence is never accidental. If you want to excel, know that you are stepping into it deliberately. Take your craft seriously. Let this be the year you confirm your identity in whatever you have been called to do.

6. Plan.

The Bible tells us that anyone who wants to build a house should first sit down and plan, so that they are able to finish it, and so that others will not make jest of them. Plan your days. Plan your weeks. Plan your months. Plan the year. Plan in quarters if you need to. Put systems in place that help you live according to those plans. Life will surprise you, yes! Things may not always go according to plan, yes! But, my love, planning shows that you are intentional. Be passionate about your goals. Be serious about your growth. Honestly, nobody should be unserious about their life in 2026. It’s big ‘26, okay?

Yes, I think I'm going to start using these memes again.😂

Anyways, there’s a quote I want to end this letter with:

My love, no matter your goals this year, spiritual or otherwise, make sure you do not lose God in the process. Even in the pursuit of spiritual growth, if we are not careful, we can lose the very reason we began. Let it not be said at the end of this year that distance grew between you and God.

With that being said , thank you for last year, my love. And, I believe this year will be beautiful together. I can’t wait to write the last letter of this year to you. I won’t stop writing. I don’t think I ever will. Later this year, I’m going to share with you the story of how I wanted to take a “long” break from this space this year, but our daddy in heaven said “no, my dear”.😂

Anyways, I really love that I get to share this space with God, and with you. Happy New Year once again. I love you and Jesus loves you more, always!❤️

•If your school is also resuming next week, how are you feeling? As for me, blah blah blah sheep, I'm not feeling good.😭😭

•I discovered this song on Instagram and I think it's so relatable to most of us. Check it out whenever you can.🙂‍↔️

Exactly a year ago, I wrote a letter to my present self. I’ll attach the link to it below.

Reading it was a bittersweet experience because it’s neat to make plans and have expectations, but life is crazy. Things you expect happens. The ones you don’t expect happens too. This year felt quieter. Like God was teaching me how to walk without constantly asking for signs. I learned to trust, even when I didn’t fully understand what was happening.

At the beginning of the year, I received a lot of words. Someone specifically got words for me, and I wrote them down. One of them spoke about not allowing the devil to win the battle over my mind. I knew it was going to be about mental health, but I didn’t really pay attention at the time.

This year, my mental health was a whole mess. Bouts of depression. Anxiety. Thoughts that shouldn’t even be said out loud. Days when it felt heavy just existing. I couldn’t go to class on some “bad” days. And recently, when I went back to those words, I said, oh wow. I remembered a video I once spoke about — how the devil tries to fight battles in our minds. It sounds cliché, but it’s real. Guard your heart, my love, as much as you can.

There were moments I fell back into old habits. Moments I thought I had outgrown. And that humbled me. But I also learned that growth isn’t a straight line. You fall. You get back up. You learn again. That’s still growth. This year, I served. I took on responsibilities I didn’t think I was ready for. I questioned myself constantly, but I showed up anyway. I learned that leadership isn’t about having everything figured out, it’s about showing up, caring deeply, and doing your best even when you’re unsure.

I learned to be gentler with myself. To stop punishing myself for not being perfect. To accept that healing isn’t linear. I learned to sit with discomfort instead of running from it. And I learned that even when I feel unsure, God is still steady. I wrote more this year. I read over sixty books this year, not my original goal, but still, how many people did up to that this year? Clap for me jor! I tried new things, those that know know. I took risks. I lived and loved a little louder. I laughed more. I cried honestly. I learned to let myself be seen, even when it was uncomfortable. This year didn’t turn out the way I imagined. But it turned me into someone more grounded, more self-aware, more present.

This year, I watched people I love thrive. I learned that joy doesn’t always come from what happens to you, but from watching the people you love become who they’re meant to be. I watched my friends grow, lead, shine. Tami became the president. Ameerah grew in confidence. Ijay, phenomenal as always! Faith, Praise, Chubi, Rita, and Ebun graduated. I grew closer to people who now feel like family. I became the public health director, and my committee is truly wonderful. I’m so grateful.

I would have really loved to do a full recap, but I’m not in the right headspace for that. Still, it didn’t feel right to end the year without saying something.

So, I’m grateful. For the hard moments. For the disappointments. For the laughter. For the tears. For the love. For the losses. For the blessings. For everything. I’m grateful for you too, my love. We started this journey when I was in 200 level, and in a few days, Pieces of Chloe will be two years old — almost 400 subscribers. Who would have thought?🥹❤️

For 2026, I don’t have big plans like that. I just want to be better. In everything. Mentally. Emotionally. Spiritually. Especially in my relationship with God. I want to grow. I want to trust. I want to love — God, myself and others — more deeply. I want to keep becoming. I will keep becoming.

I hope you had a beautiful year too? Thank you for a beautiful year, my love! Happy new year in advance.❤️

My brother, Josiah, asked me to follow him and his friends to watch the flock. I didn’t want to go. It was a cold winter night, and I would have rather stayed inside where it was warm. But he bribed me and said I could bring my drum and play for his friends. I knew he didn’t always like when I performed; he said it was embarrassing and childish, sometimes. So I followed him, drum in hand, into the dark.

It was cold. The kind of cold that settles into your bones. The stars were out, brighter than usual, and we watched the sheep in silence. At some point, my brother’s friend, Benjamin, asked me to play while he sang an hymn, so I did. I tapped a rhythm, it was nothing special, just something to pass the time. We laughed a little. Eventually, we grew tired and laid down to rest our eyes.

Then the light came.

At first, we thought a fire had started. But it wasn’t a fire and it wasn’t a torch. It was something brighter, it was something alive. It couldn’t have been of this world. We looked up and saw beings standing above us. Anyone who had grown up like us would know immediately: angels. And suddenly the night was no longer ordinary. I remember freezing with fear.

They spoke of good news. They told us not to be afraid. They said a King had been born. A Savior. That peace had come to us. That God had drawn near to men. They sang, and their voices filled the sky in a way no human sound ever could. It was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.

“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men.”

I didn’t understand everything they said. I don’t think any of us did. But my brother did not hesitate. He said we should go. That we must see this thing that had happened. I held my drum, thinking I would go home instead. What was I supposed to do there? What did a boy like me have to offer a king?

But, “Come”, they told me.

So we walked. The stars were even brighter and the night felt so alive. We found the place. It was a stable, not a palace. There were no trumpets, gold or marble. All I could see was hay, animals, a man and a woman holding a baby. She looked so young and tired, but there was something about her, something gentle and holy. The child was small, wrapped in cloth and he was so quiet. And somehow, this was the King they spoke of. THE MESSIAH?

I felt ashamed. What could I offer Him? I had no gift, no wealth, no importance, no words worthy enough. I was just a boy with a boy. I almost left to stay outside while the adults talked. But something inside me urged me forward. It wasn’t a voice. Just a knowing.

I asked the woman, Mary, if I could play for Him. She smiled and nodded. So I played. My hands shook and the rhythm wasn’t perfect.I played the melody the angels had sung, or at least the best version my small hands could manage. And in that moment, I understood something I will never forget: this King wasn’t like Herod or any other king I had heard of. This king did not need gold or greatness. He only needed my offering. My presence. My heart. I was just a boy with a drum. And in all of Israel, that night, I was deemed worthy to welcome the king.❤️

Hi, my love.

I wrote this story from the POV of my favorite Christmas character. Funnily enough, the drummer boy isn’t mentioned in the Bible, at least, I don’t think he is. But he’s always been my favorite. I love the song The Little Drummer Boy so much, because it talks about how all of us are worthy, even with the little that we have.

By the way, I know that the origin of the Little Drummer Boy story was with the Wise Men, but I decided to write it with the Shepherds instead.

The drummer boy was just a child. He didn’t have much to offer. He wasn’t rich or important. All he had was his drum and he came before Jesus with what he had. That’s what I love about the story. Because sometimes, we feel like we don’t have enough to offer to God. We feel too small, too broken, too unworthy. We think God wouldn’t notice us, or that we’re not important enough. But the truth is, God saw him. And God sees us too.

The drummer boy didn’t have anything impressive. And still, God found him worthy to be there. He was worthy to stand before the King. And that’s what I want you to remember. If you ever feel small, or unimportant, or like you don’t matter enough, I want you to know this: you are worthy. You are seen. You are loved. God saw and loved you before you ever thought of Him. Before you were even formed in your mom’s womb. That’s why Jesus came. That’s why He was born, because you are worthy of His love.

“But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved.” Ephesians 2: 4-5.

Merry Christmas, my love.🥹

You might not hear from me tomorrow. I think I need some rest but I’m glad I did this challenge. I hope every piece reminded you of the beauty and worth of Christmas and within you. I love you. And Jesus loves you more, my darling!❤️

‎normality is a paved road,

‎it’s comfortable to walk on,

‎but it doesn’t grow flowers.

‎So my wish is this:

‎as you walk this stony road of abnormality,

‎choosing flowers over ease,

‎choosing growth over comfort,

‎may the soles of your feet heal

‎when they are bruised.

‎may your toes learn to walk

‎even when they are in pain.

‎And may this stony path lead you

‎to the beauty you were made for.💐❤️

My love, I know this piece isn’t exactly Christmas-themed, but Christmas has always been a season of wishes. And tonight, this is mine, for me, for you, for all of us.❤️