So, yes, I will continue to smile when I see people getting married. I will continue to celebrate their happiness. I will continue to make du'a for their homes. I will continue to be genuinely happy when someone I know finds their person.

But I will not allow someone else's timeline to make me question mine. Their marriage is not a reminder that I am late. Their happiness is not evidence that something is missing from my life. And their timing is not my timing.

Allah knows what I don't. He knows the person I haven't met yet. He knows the circumstances that need to align. He knows what I need to become before I meet them. And He knows what they need to become before they meet me.

So, to the person Allah has written for me, wherever you are right now; I pray that Allah eases your affairs. I pray that He protects your heart. I pray that He strengthens your faith. I pray that He keeps you firm upon the straight path. I pray that He makes you into a man of good character, kindness, patience and taqwa. I pray that He prepares you for me, just as I pray that He prepares me for you.

And until our paths finally cross, I don't want to spend my days wondering when you will arrive. I want to spend them becoming someone worthy of the life I keep praying for.

So, while I wait, I will keep learning, growing and working on myself.

I will become better, not because I am trying to become worthy of someone's love, but because I want to become the best version of myself.

And I will keep praying that when the time finally comes, Allah brings us together in the most beautiful way. In good health, strong faith, peace, love, and His mercy.

And when the answer to my prayers finally arrives, I hope I will be able to look at him and say:

"I waited for you, but more importantly, I trusted Allah's timing."

Until then, I will keep believing that what Allah has written for me will never miss me.

I came across a journal she used two years ago. She knew I was going through it, although she couldn't remember what she had written in it.

There was a section that said:

“Things that I am grateful for today.”

A space had been left underneath it, and among the things she had written was my name.

To be honest, that moment made me feel something I had never really felt before. I couldn't tell if it was relief or joy. I just felt... good.

The funny thing was, she couldn't remember why she had written my name there.

Yesterday, she finally explained.

As she spoke, I realized that she had been going through something much deeper than I had ever known. At some point, I felt like I was about to cry because I couldn't imagine how she had managed to go through all of that alone.

Throughout the conversation, a part of me felt sad that I hadn't known. I wished I had known so I could have been there for her in a more intentional way.

But another part of me felt relieved.

Because, even though I didn't know what she was going through, I had somehow been able to comfort her during that period.

Then she said something that stayed with me:

“It wasn't just about you comforting me during that period. It was you comforting me despite not knowing it was a difficult period for me.”

And that made me think.

Sometimes, we don't know the battles people are fighting. We don't know who went home and cried after smiling at us. We don't know who is silently struggling to get through the day. We don't know when a simple conversation, a kind word, a check-in, a smile, or simply being there might mean more to someone than we could ever imagine.

So, be kind.

Not only to the people you love. Not only to your friends. Not only to people who are kind to you.

Be kind because we never truly know what someone is going through.

And perhaps, years from now, someone might look back at a difficult period in their life and remember that you made it a little easier without even knowing you did.

To the reader, I hope you are doing okay.

Irrespective of what you are going through, I want you to know this: You are not alone.

And to my friend, Hassanah, thank you for showing me just how important it is to always be kind to others.

I will always be here, cheering you on.

You can always count on me. 🤍

Now, let me ask you...

Beyond your name. Beyond your titles. Beyond what the world expects you to be.

Who are you when it's just you and your heart?

For seven months, I kept breaking promises to myself.

I made plans but never took the first step toward achieving them. I promised myself discipline and consistency, but with every slight disruption, I broke those promises.

Looking back, I realized something.

It wasn't that I was lazy. It wasn't that I lacked the ability.

I simply hadn't built the habit of consistency.

Every time I broke a promise to myself, I added another link to a chain that kept me stuck. Today, I'm choosing to break that chain, one promise kept at a time.

As someone who easily forgets things, I've developed the habit of writing a to-do list every morning. It helps me keep track of what needs to be done.

It works.

But somehow, I still don't get through all the tasks.

This morning, I think I finally understood why.

1. Zeal that doesn't last

While scrolling through our phones, we come across a motivational quote or an inspiring post, and suddenly we're convinced that today is the day everything changes.

For a few days, it works.

We wake up early. We read. We exercise. We tick every box.

Then, slowly, we're back to where we started.

Why?

Because in those first few days, we set standards so high that they become impossible to sustain. Eventually, the excitement fades, the pressure becomes overwhelming, and consistency disappears with it.

The problem wasn't that we lacked motivation.

The problem was that we expected motivation to carry us farther than habits ever could.

2. We don't prioritize our own goals

When we're given responsibilities at school, at work, or at home, we do everything we can to complete them.

But when it comes to the promises we've made to ourselves, the ones our future actually depends on, we keep saying,

"I'll do it later."

We work so hard not to disappoint other people, yet we disappoint ourselves every single day.

Every postponed personal goal becomes another link in the chain.

3. The lies we tell ourselves

Sometimes we convince ourselves that we'll start tomorrow.

Sometimes we say we're waiting for the perfect time.

Sometimes we pretend we're too busy.

But often, the real reason is fear.

We're afraid of putting in the effort and still not getting the results we hoped for.

The fear of failure is often worse than failure itself.

So ask yourself honestly:

Would you rather live knowing you tried and failed, or live knowing you failed simply because you never tried?

Read that question again.

Answer it sincerely.

Today, I'm breaking the chain.

Not by changing everything overnight.

But by keeping one small promise to myself every single day.

Here's what I'll do differently:

• I'll make my personal goals a priority.

I'll treat the promises I make to myself with the same seriousness I give to commitments made to others.

• I'll take it one step at a time.

Instead of forcing myself to read for two hours every day, I'll commit to reading for at least 20 minutes.

Small, consistent actions are easier to sustain.

And if I do more, that's a bonus.

• I'll choose courage over fear.

Whenever I set a goal, I'll remind myself of both the benefits of trying and the cost of not trying.

Pros

• I might succeed.

• Even if I fail, I'll learn and grow.

Cons

• I fail because I never started.

• I fail because I gave up too soon.

As the saying goes,

"Doubt kills more dreams than failure ever will."

For these remaining five months of 2026, let's take it one step at a time.

Let's replace intensity with consistency.

Let's replace excuses with action.

Let's break one link every day by keeping one promise to ourselves.

And on December 31, 2026, let's come back to this post and share how breaking the chain changed our lives.

Because maybe changing your life doesn't begin with one big decision.

Maybe it begins with keeping one small promise to yourself today.

Some of my writings have been about my family, but for the first time, I want to write about a friend.

About a week ago, she welcomed a beautiful baby girl into the world. Seeing her lying on that hospital bed with her baby in her arms brought back memories of how far she has come.

In November 2025, we resumed school for our final first semester, and that was when it all started.

At that time, she was still in her first trimester, and the journey was relatively smooth. However, things became much more challenging when she entered her third trimester.

There were days when she would complain of back pain, sometimes leg pain, and at other times, she could not even explain the pain she was feeling. Yet, despite all of that, she carried on and chose to remain strong.

There were moments when she felt like giving up, but she never did. In fact, I only remember seeing her cry once during that entire period. That day, I realized just how heavy the burden must have been and how long she had been carrying it in silence before finally letting it out.

That day, I made a promise to myself, to dedicate one of my writings to her, not just as a friend, but as someone who persevered and remained strong through one of the most challenging periods of her life.

I always tell people:

"Fati is a very strong person, and I truly admire her."

Fast forward a few months, and my friend is now the mother of Hafsohtul-Mawaddah.

To my Fati,

I am proud of how far you have come, from your pregnancy journey to becoming a mother. I have seen you in your weakest moments, and because of that, I know just how strong you truly are.

I pray that Allah grants you goodness in this Dunya and in the Akhirah. I pray that He places barakah in your life, crowns all your efforts with success, and protects you from every form of evil.

You are not just my friend; you are my sister, and I am grateful to have you in my life.

I love you for the sake of Allah, my Fati.

May Allah preserve you, your daughter, and your family. Ameen.

Aolat Sonaike was born in Ijebu Ode, Ogun state. As the tenth of twelve children, her childhood was far from ordinary. She lost her mother at a very young age, and her father became the mother and father figure in her and her siblings' lives. 

Despite the early challenges she faced, Aolat remained determined to pursue education and build a meaningful future. She attended Moslem Primary School. After which she went to Abusi Odumare Academy for her secondary education. On the completion of her secondary education, she got admission to Tai Solarin college of education where she studied agric double major. After that, She furthered her education into the Federal University of Agriculture, Abeokuta (FUNAAB), where she studied Agricultural Economics and graduated with a second-class upper degree.

During her third year at the university, she met Abdul Majeed Yusuff, the man who later became her husband. Not too long into their marriage they had their first child, Summayyah. As a University student, balancing academics with pregnancy and motherhood was a bit difficult. But she refused to give up on her education and eventually scalled through.

Two years after the birth of Summayyah, they had their second child, Asiyah. When Summayyah got to the age of 4, they relocated back to Lagos state, where her husband's parents reside. They stayed there for a few years and their daughters started attending school there.

Not too long after relocating to Lagos, she had her third child, Zaid. But unlike her two daughters, Zaid birth came with unexpected health challenges. He was diagnosed with Jaundice and unlike other children, his growth and development were significantly delayed. At the age of 3, he could neither sit nor stand on his own, and his condition continued to worsen. Aolat and her husband, had to do everything within their power, to improve his health, but sadly at the age of 7, he passed away. The loss of her child, took a toll on her and it took her a while to heal from it. 

Despite the pain she endured, Aolat continued to push forward in life. Her journey into entrepreneurship began much earlier during her university years in Abeokuta, where she worked as a tailor. She sewed sweaters and school uniforms for students as a way to support herself and her family. After relocating to Lagos, she couldn't continue with that due to personal reasons. She had to start making coconut which she would hawk from daylight till dawn.

Her husband finally relocated from his parent house, into an apartment. When they got to the apartment, she started purchasing eggs in small quantities and started selling them. She also added card business. But as a starter, it wasn't easy. There are times when the house would start smelling due to an egg that has rotten or just the usual odour from the egg. But there is nothing she could do, due to the fact that she was still struggling.

After a few years into the business, she was finally able to get her own shop, where she started selling the eggs in very large quantities and her customers increased. Now, she doesn't just sell eggs, she also sells all types of food items, ranging from bags of rice to Kegs of palm oil or vegetable oil.

Also, a few years after the loss of zaid, she finally had another son, Bilal.

Aolat Sonaike's story is one of strength, perseverance, and resilience. From losing her mother at a young age, to balancing motherhood and education, enduring the heartbreak of losing a child, and building a business from nothing, her life reflects the power of determination in the face of adversity.

After years of resilience, she finally is not only a successful businesswomen, but also a devoted mother of three children and a living example that resilience can transform even the most difficult circumstances into a story of hope and strength.

Her life stands as proof that even in the face of loss, hardship, and uncertainty, perseverance can transform pain into strength and struggle into success.

Ps: This is the biography of my mum.

Thank you for reading.

Ever wondered why we search for home in a place never meant to last, even while knowing it is temporary?

Why do we become so attached to this dunya, forgetting that everything in it is fleeting?

We chase material things, trying to build permanence in a world that can vanish in the blink of an eye.

We shift our priorities, placing worldly affairs above what truly matters, forgetting how fragile life is.

We search for solace, happiness, and fulfillment in the creation rather than the Creator.

We tell ourselves, “Tomorrow, I will change” forgetting that tomorrow is never promised.

We cry on the shoulders of people, forgetting that nothing relieves a burdened soul like crying in sujud.

We search for peace in music, forgetting that nothing soothes the heart better than the Quran.

We gossip, backbite, and lie, not realising how these “minor sins” slowly consume our good deeds.

We have become so lost in trying to live this life that we forget this world was never meant to be our final home.

When will we realise that this dunya is nothing more than a temporary journey?

When will we begin living for the Creator rather than the creation?

How long will we remain oblivious to the truth standing right before us?

How long will we remain blinded by this temporary world until death arrives and the truth becomes impossible to ignore?

Allah says in Surah Ghafir (40:39):

“O my people, this worldly life is only temporary enjoyment, and indeed, the Hereafter - that is the home of permanent settlement.”

Sometimes, love is not enough when two souls are walking in different directions.

This is the story of Aisha and AbdulRahman...

Aisha and AbdulRahman’s encounter was like any other. They were students in the same university, though in different departments.

What brought them close was their brilliance. Both were top students in their departments, active in different clubs, and representatives of their university in several competitions.

After meeting a couple of times, they became close. Being intelligent and ambitious made it easy for them to connect.

Slowly, they grew fond of each other.

But deep down, something still did not feel right.

Aisha was outgoing, lively, and everywhere. From events to parties, she loved being part of the excitement of life.

AbdulRahman, on the other hand, was quiet, reserved, and deeply introverted. The only places you would consistently find him were book clubs or Islamic programs.

While Aisha focused more on worldly affairs, AbdulRahman focused on his deen. To him, life was beyond good grades and achievements. It was about pleasing Allah. His Qur’an and Salah were things he never joked with. His deen mattered to him more than anything else.

At first, AbdulRahman overlooked their differences. He believed people could always turn a new leaf. He told himself, “At least she is trying. Maybe, with time, she would do better.”

But with time, he began to notice little things that troubled his heart.

There were nights he would wait for her reply while delaying his Qur’an recitation. Days when their conversations stayed in his mind during Salah, stealing away the khushoo he once guarded carefully. Sometimes, after spending hours talking to her, he would sit alone wondering why his heart suddenly felt heavy.

And the more attached he became, the more afraid he grew. Afraid that love was beginning to take a space in his heart that belonged only to Allah.

One evening, Aisha invited him to an event she was excited about. AbdulRahman hesitated. Deep down, he knew he was uncomfortable with certain environments, but because it was her, he considered going anyway.

That night, he was deeply disturbed. He realized how easily emotions could slowly make a person compromise on things they once stood firmly upon.

When he got back to his room, he stared at himself for a long time. He missed the version of himself that felt spiritually at peace. Still, he cared about her deeply. Which made everything harder.

They both wanted each other, but their values didn't align.

Confused, AbdulRahman sought advice. Some told him to be patient with her, insisting she would eventually change. Others advised him to move on before emotions blinded him completely.

Yet none of the answers settled his heart.

One night, unable to silence the conflict within him anymore, he turned to his Rabb. In sujood, he poured everything out to Allah. The attachment. The confusion. The fear of losing himself while trying to hold onto someone else.

He asked Allah for clarity, guidance, and the strength to accept whatever was best for him.

The next morning, something shifted.

The attachment he once felt slowly began to fade. The confusion disappeared, and his heart felt lighter. In that moment, he realized:

"Not every person we want is written for us."

When he explained everything to Aisha, it changed nothing for her. She still was not ready to let go of the fleeting pleasures of this world.

And so, they went their separate ways.

Years later, fate caused their paths to cross once again...

To be continued....

A year ago, a friend of mine, Masturah, DM’d me and suggested I start posting my poems on Substack. Without much thought, I downloaded the app and published my first poem.

That night, I shared the link on my status and woke up to about 10 likes after the first 24 hours. To be honest, I felt seen. From that day, I started posting weekly, and before I knew it, I had also ventured into article writing.

If someone had told me a day before that I would be writing long posts or articles, I would not have believed it. I had never really written anything beyond poems in my life, and my first article was about my grandfather.

Slowly, I kept posting, but at some point, I struggled with consistency. There were moments I felt like giving up, especially when engagement started dropping.

But along the way, I learned something important: writing is not about how many likes or views a post gets. It is about how many people feel seen or understood through your words. That realization changed everything for me.

I began writing not for likes or numbers, but so that my readers could breathe a little easier knowing they are not alone, and that someone somewhere understands what they feel.

Through my writing, I wanted to create a safe space for anyone who has ever felt alone.

So to my 350+ subscribers, thank you. Thank you for believing in me, for staying even when I go quiet, and for supporting me from a distance more than you know.

Over this year, I have received messages and comments that brought tears to my eyes. They reminded me that my words are not just words, they bring comfort. And I hope I continue to do just that.

I know I have not been as consistent lately, but I am promising you that I will do my best to keep writing and keep building this safe space, not just for me, but for you reading this.

One year and 350+ subscribers is a big milestone in my life, but I know this is just the beginning. I cannot wait to see what the coming years will bring.

And to you reading this: the sky is your starting point. Whatever you have always wanted to do, now is the time. Take that first step, write that first page, record that first video, upload that first podcast, enroll in that course. Just start, and watch how your life begins to shift within a year.

Not just me, but all of us are rooting for you. Let’s come back here in a year and share what has changed.

Thank you for always reading.

With love,

Bint Yusuff.

And that was the beginning of Hearts to Hands.

Starting this foundation made me realize how difficult it is to run an organization, whether charity or non-charity. The day the thought of creating a foundation came to me, I didn’t think about the many obstacles I would face or the rejections I would encounter. I only had one thought, the thought of how many worries and burdens would be eased, and the beautiful smiles that would appear on the faces of families in need.

And yes, it was difficult. But honestly, I know it will all be worth it. This has always been my dream, and I am grateful that it is finally coming to life. The foundation was created in late December 2025 and launched in early January with our first project, “Feed a Family This Eid.” We had about two months to raise funds to feed families and, to be honest, it was one of the most difficult challenges I have ever taken on.

Fundraising was tough, especially because the foundation name had not yet been registered, so we had to use a personal account, which we still use for now. Getting people to support us was not easy, and one of the biggest challenges was managing volunteers.

This experience led me to create a core team, a smaller group of selected individuals, and I must say that was one of the best decisions I made. These individuals gave their absolute best to the foundation, from countless online meetings to daily discussions on how to make our first project a success.

With the support of the core team, volunteers, donors, friends, and family, we were able to achieve our goal. Alhamdulillah, through your generosity, we successfully fed 40 families during our “Feed a Family This Eid” project.

For many of these families, it meant having food on their table during Eid, something they were not sure would be possible. One of the most touching moments for me was seeing the relief and gratitude on the faces of the families we visited. It was a reminder that sometimes the smallest act of kindness can bring the biggest comfort to someone in need.

Feeding 40 families was only the beginning. With your continued support, we hope to reach even more families and communities in need in our upcoming projects.

The core team members became my greatest source of strength. They showed me that I am not alone in this journey and that we are truly in it together. Words cannot fully express how grateful I am. May Allah reward you all abundantly.

Aside from the core team members, I am also grateful to all the volunteers. The fact that many of you joined from the very beginning without doubts, paid the commitment fee without even knowing me personally, and believed in the foundation before it was launched, is something I will forever appreciate. May Allah reward you all abundantly.

I would also like to thank my team leads. Before launching the foundation, when I shared this idea with you, you believed in me and trusted the process without hesitation. You supported me in ways I didn’t imagine and led like true leaders. Thank you for believing in me and continuing to do so. May Allah grant you all the best in this Dunya and in the Akhirah.

To all my friends who supported me on this journey, from donating from the little they have to tirelessly sharing my broadcasts, may Allah reward you all abundantly.

To my family, I truly don’t know how to appreciate you enough. You are one of the greatest blessings in my life. You supported me financially and emotionally, giving me the courage I needed to keep pushing when things became difficult. You believed in me and in my dreams. I pray Allah grants you all the best in this Dunya and in the Akhirah.

To my late grandfather, who taught me what kindness truly means, I pray Allah forgives all your sins and grants you Al-Jannah Al-Firdous. Ameen.

To my biggest cheerleaders in this world, Mum and Bilal, I honestly don’t know what I would do without you. You stood by me even when no one else did. You supported and encouraged me. You see my dreams far beyond the way I see them, and most importantly, you cheer for me louder than anyone else. May Allah protect you both and grant you goodness in this world and the hereafter. Ameen.

And finally, to the most important people of all, the donors. You gave without hesitation, donating from your kind hearts to the hands of those in need. Through your generosity, you relieved the burdens of families and brought smiles back to faces that had lost them. May Allah continue to reward you abundantly and grant you goodness and mercy in this Dunya and in the Akhirah. Ameen.

And to you reading this, thank you for taking the time to read until this point.

You can join this beautiful cause by donating any amount to the account below.

Account Name: Yusuff Summayyah (Hearts to Hands)

Account Number: 7057635214

Bank: Opay

Even a donation of ₦1,000, ₦2,000, ₦5,000 or any amount you can afford, can help us continue reaching families in need and carrying out our upcoming projects.

You can also become part of the Hearts to Hands Monthly Sadaqah Circle by pledging a monthly sadaqah through the link below:

https://wa.me/2349011016825?text=Assalamu%20Alaikum%2C%20I%20would%20like%20to%20pledge%20my%20monthly%20sadaqah%20to%20Hearts%20to%20Hands%20Foundation.%20I%20pledge%20to%20contribute%20%20%20%20%20

Or Send a message to 09011016825

Even a small monthly contribution can help us continue reaching families in need and carrying out our upcoming projects.

You can also follow us on Instagram to see updates, stories, and the families your sadaqah is helping:

https://www.instagram.com/hearts_to_hands1?igsh=dWF2dXVmc2N0emox

Or @hearts_to_hands1

Remember, no act of charity is ever too small, what may seem little to you could mean everything to someone else.

May Allah reward you abundantly for every act of kindness. Jazakumullahu Khairan.

Friendship, one of the best parts about life. A ship so strong that stays with us throughout our lives. It gives us purpose, meaning, and strength. It gives us the courage to keep pushing when things get tough. And sometimes, it becomes the reason why we feel like giving up on everything.

Someone once asked me a simple question: “Do you have friends?”

At first, it sounded like an easy question. A question most people would answer without thinking twice. But the more I reflected on it, the more complicated it began to feel. Because friendship changes as life changes.

The friendships we once knew that was built on daily conversations, constant presence, and shared routines, do not always look the same as we grow older. Time reshapes them. Life stretches them. And sometimes, distance quietly slips in between.

Life happens. We grow up, and with that growth comes distance, not always intentional, not always painful, but noticeable enough to make you pause sometimes.

What used to be daily conversations slowly becomes a weekly check-in and sometimes even longer. And eventually, we settle into a silent understanding, “I am sure they are okay.”

There is no resentment in that thought. No anger. Just a quiet acceptance that life has simply taken its course. The friendships we once nurtured with constant presence now survive on occasional moments.

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But then, there are those friendships. The ones whose distance never truly created distance. Friends who, no matter how tight their schedules are, still reach out in the middle of their chaos. Friends who remember the small things about you, the things you might have forgotten about yourself.

Friends who may not respond to your message instantly but would pick up your call at the very first ring. The kind of friends who may disappear into their responsibilities for weeks or months, yet the moment you reconnect, nothing feels unfamiliar. The conversation continues as though it had simply been paused.

Friends who understand silence. Friends who understand growth. Friends who understand that life can be overwhelming sometimes. And perhaps the most beautiful kind of friendship is the one that allows both people to grow separately without growing apart.

Friends who, after years of being apart, still feel like home when you reunite. The laughter returns easily. The stories flow naturally. The comfort is still there, untouched by time.

Friends who reassure you that everything is going to be okay even when they themselves are not okay. Friends who carry their own burdens yet still find space in their hearts to check on you.

The older I grow, the more I realize that friendship is not always about constant communication. Sometimes it is about quiet loyalty. About knowing that somewhere out there is someone who cares about you, even when life has taken both of you in different directions.

Friendship is not always loud. Sometimes it is subtle.

Sometimes it is simply knowing that if things ever truly fall apart, there are people you can call, and they will answer. And perhaps that is what true friendship becomes with time.

A quiet reassurance that even as life pulls everyone into different directions, some connections remain steady. They may bend with time, they may stretch across cities and responsibilities, but they do not break.

And then I think about it again. That familiar question. “Do you have friends?” This time, I respond with calmness and a smile on my face. Yes, I do.

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Thank you for reading.

See you soon.

I am emotionally deep. I prioritize emotions a lot. When I meet someone new, one of the first things I notice is how they are emotionally. I might be drawn to you at first, but the moment I realize we are not aligned emotionally, I take a step back.

Last night, I told my brother that I lose interest in people easily. I explained why. Truthfully, it is exhausting being the one constantly trying to regulate or navigate a friendship. It is hard when you are the one always raising concerns, and the other person never takes accountability. It is draining trying to mend something the other person doesn’t even believe is broken.

It is hard staying friends with someone who makes you feel like you are “too deep” or “too sensitive.” And it is even harder trying to stay afloat in a ship that clearly has multiple holes.

But I am not perfect either.

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My communication skills can be inconsistent. I am the friend you can call at 2am and I will listen to you for hours. But you might text me at 2pm and I may not reply immediately. I love deeply, but I struggle with maintenance. I struggle with constant presence.

I tell people I do not keep many close friends because I find it difficult to maintain friendships. Trust me, I care. I will try my best to be there. But not always at the ticking of every clock.

Sometimes I say, “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you. I’ll call you later so we can talk,” and then life pulls me away. I genuinely enjoy conversations, but beyond everything, I have found a certain peace in solitude.

What unsettles me most is broken promises. If I tell you I will get back to you, I will. And if I fail, I will apologize. I cannot disappear and return like nothing happened. Accountability matters to me.

When someone responds to my complaint by saying, “But you do the same,” I pause. Maybe I do, in different ways. And that realization humbles me.

I do not despise people who are not emotionally expressive or who do not prioritize accountability the way I do. We all love differently. There are people who feel safe in their own emotional style, just as I do in mine.

But emotional imbalance is tiring. It drains you quietly. So, surround yourself with people who meet you where you meet them.

People who apologize. People who communicate. People who make you feel seen, not dramatic. People who love at a depth that feels familiar.

And most importantly, surround yourself with people who are on the same emotional level as you.

Thank you reading. See you soon.

There is something I’ve been struggling with for a while now, and honestly, I’m not always sure whether it’s because I’m not giving my best or because I don’t care as much as I think I do.

Consistency has been hard for me, especially with the two things I love most: reading and writing. I find strength in reading and peace in writing, yet staying consistent with both still feels like a constant battle.

I tell myself I will post weekly or read ten pages a day. The first day comes with excitement, the second day the momentum slows, and by the third, it sometimes disappears. It can be frustrating, but I’m learning to be gentle with myself.

But I have come to understand that it’s okay not to have everything figured out. It’s okay to pause, breathe, and take things one step at a time. And if you’re reading this and feel the same way, confused, stuck, or inconsistent, it’s okay for you too. Give yourself grace.

Writing, for me, has never just been about being seen. I write so others can feel seen. I write not only to find a safe space for myself but to create one for anyone who might need it. Still, I sometimes hesitate, wondering if my words will resonate, if someone somewhere will quietly whisper, “me too.”

I once read: don’t just write for the likes, write so someone reading can whisper, “me too.” That stayed with me. Because sometimes a post doesn’t get much attention today, yet tomorrow it might reach hearts you never expected.

I saw this with my piece “When Attachment Masquerades as Love.” When I first posted it, it had fewer than twenty likes. Now it’s around a hundred. That might seem small to some, but to me it means a hundred people felt something, connected somehow, felt a little less alone. And that reminded me why I started writing in the first place.

So yes, consistency is still something I’m learning. I’m still figuring it out. But I’m choosing to keep writing anyway, even when motivation fades, even when I don’t feel seen. Because sometimes, showing up imperfectly is still showing up.

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Thank you for reading.

See you next week.

I have been asking myself, why do we keep staying in relationships that makes us lose sleep?

After getting lost in my thoughts, I realized something. It isn’t we don’t want to leave, it’s just that leaving feels like losing a part of you.

You know that feeling when someone new comes into your life? At first it starts with “Hii.” “Hii…” Then suddenly you find yourself opening up to the person. You were someone who hardly says anything to anyone, but you find yourself spilling every little tea to this person who was a stranger a few days ago.

You became best friends, well, maybe you thought so. The person becomes the one you speak to first thing in the morning and the last thing before going to bed.

It gets deeper. You tell them things you swore you would never say to anyone. Even though you barely know them, you just can’t help but tell them every bit of information.

And yeah, they are very good listeners. They are always available to hear your rant. They let you speak, and then they tell you words no one ever said to you before. They encourage you and console you like no friend has ever done.

They became your special someone. You are always eager for the day to come to an end because you want to tell them every little detail about your day.

The moment you get home, you can’t help but grab your phone first to type, guess what happened today? 😭 And you anxiously wait for their reply.

“What happened?” pops up, and then your face lightens up. You start smiling at your phone. Soon, before you realize it, time is far spent. You don’t realize when you fall asleep.

And then you find yourself smiling in your sleep. The thought, I finally found that one person who gets me, crosses your mind.

Weeks pass, and the cycle still repeats itself. Until one day you send the same message, guess what happened? But this time, no response. Your heart starts beating fast. You become nervous, your mood changes. You keep staring at the phone, hoping for a response to pop up. But it doesn’t.

You lay down hoping to fall asleep, but you can’t. You keep hoping to hear a notification, but you don’t. You don’t realize when you fall asleep. Then you suddenly wake up in the middle of the night, and there the message is: “What happened?”

But this time, it is different. You no longer know what to say. You become short of words. At that moment, something feels off. You were expecting an apology or at least an explanation, but you didn’t get any.

You just respond, nothing much. Then they respond, okay. Your heart sinks. What suddenly changed in the last few hours that passed? Then you become curious and ask if they are okay. They respond, yes.

But the truth is, at that moment, you are not okay. Things return back to normal, but it feels different. One day you sit down to think about it, and you realize that all along you have always done the talking. You go through your conversations and realize you hardly know them.

They hardly said anything about themselves, but they knew everything about you. Then you decide to make an effort, to start paying more attention. The next conversation you have, you say to them, I really don’t know anything about you. Tell me something I don’t know. They respond, I don’t think there is anything you need to know.

You respond, but you know literally everything about me. They respond, because you tell them to me without me asking.

Your mind goes blank. You have no idea what to respond with. It was like a switch was turned off in you. You realize all along it might have been one-sided.

After that day, you keep making attempts, but it just doesn’t make a difference. Then your conversations become shorter by the day.

You realize that you have always started every conversation. The day you don’t send a text, you aren’t getting one either.

Your mood begins to change, from someone who always had a smile on their face to losing that smile. But even with that, you still keep sending them a text. You tell yourself you want to stop, but you just can’t.

You feel that ending it is like ending a part of you. Walking away feels like losing the part of you that was always happy. So, you stay. The spark is gone, but you still remain.

Even right now, you are still there. Confused whether you should shut them out or just remain there despite not being happy.

I know it isn’t easy to walk out. I found it hard to leave also, and till now I still find it hard to do. But at the end of the day, I learned to be happy without having to depend on anyone for it. I learned to get close without overstepping. And most importantly, I learned to withdraw from anything that costs me my peace.

I hope you learn to do so too. I am rooting for you ❤️.

Ps: If you’ve ever had to walk away from something that once felt like home, what helped you finally choose yourself?

I received a message from someone I fondly call Kiddo, and it reminded me just how powerful conversations are in every relationship. It reminded me how easily silence can create wounds where love once lived.

If you’ve ever felt distant from someone you care about, or watched a relationship change simply because words were left unsaid, I hope this helps heal some of those quiet scars.

This was our conversation.

Kiddo:

Big Summy, how are you doing? I’m sure you won’t be surprised to see this, but I really had to reach out. Firstly, I’m truly sorry if I made you feel some type of way yesterday. I don’t have any solid excuse to justify it.

Me:

I am okay. Trust me, I am surprised to see this.

Kiddo:

The truth is, you’ve always been more than just a friend to me. You knew me in ways very few people ever have, and I never took that lightly.

Life happened. Communication changed. Somewhere along the line, I let my feelings get the better of me. I felt distant. I needed you sometimes and didn’t feel your presence the way I used to. Instead of communicating that properly, I quietly withdrew.

Unpinning you, pulling back, and finding comfort elsewhere wasn’t about replacing you. I need you to believe that. It was me trying to cope with how things felt, not because you stopped mattering.

Me:

I am sorry I made you feel that way. Honestly, I know I’m not the kind of friend who is present every second of the clock, but I didn’t realize I had become so distant that you felt unseen.

I should have tried harder to communicate with you, regardless of whatever I was going through.

Kiddo:

Seeing how you reacted made me realize how deeply you still care, and that hurt me in a way I didn’t expect, because it showed me how careless I’d been with something precious.

I was too quick to judge silence as lack of care. I’m really sorry for not giving you the benefit of that understanding.

If I hurt you, made you feel replaced, or made you doubt your place in my life, I’m genuinely sorry. That was never my intention. You still matter to me a lot, and I regret not saying that sooner.

Me:

I won’t deny that I felt some type of way, especially because there were no answers at first. Truth is, I prefer a painful reason over silence. Silence from someone we care about speaks volumes.

But I already let it go. When you messaged me yesterday, I was asleep. So we’re good, and we’ll always be good.

And honestly, I can’t find another Kiddo after you, so I guess I’m stuck with you, regardless.

My thoughts:

Something as simple as a lack of communication could ruin everything we built over the years.

Many of us believe silence is the safer option, that keeping quiet prevents conflict. But more often than not, silence is the first step toward destroying what love, time, and effort have carefully built.

This conversation made me realize that sometimes, we lose people slowly, not in dramatic goodbyes, but in unread messages, unasked questions, and emotions swallowed in pride.

We assume understanding where conversation is needed. We choose self-protection over vulnerability. And in doing so, we unintentionally bruise hearts we were never trying to hurt.

The conversation reminded me that healing doesn’t always come from grand gestures. Sometimes, it comes from one honest message. One apology. One moment of courage to say, “This is how I feel.”

Maybe this story feels familiar. Maybe you’ve been the one who went quiet, or the one left wondering. Do you believe honest conversations can still fix what distance creates? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

I’ve read that overthinkers tend to write the most because writing helps quiet the noise in their minds. And tonight, I couldn’t agree more.

I’ve always believed that there’s good in everyone. When people do things that hurt others or seem wrong, I choose to believe they didn’t mean it. Some might say I am naive. Some might say I’m blind. But I don’t think I am.

When I care about someone, I go all out for them. So when they hurt me, I tell myself they didn’t realize it, that they’d never do it on purpose. But tonight, I realized… maybe I’m just scared.

Scared to admit that maybe that is who they are. Scared to accept that the people I care about might not care for me the same way. Scared to see them clearly, because the truth might just break me.

I keep trying to find excuses for them because the alternative is rather too painful. Because if I accept that they meant it, then everything I gave meant nothing to them. And that’s a kind of heartbreak that doesn’t come with closure.

Maybe that’s life. Maybe I need to accept it and move on.

But what if I can’t? What if I still have lingering thoughts?

What if I still want to confront them, even though I know they won’t care? What if I can’t understand why people are two-faced? What if it changes how I see others? What if I stop trusting everyone?

Just… what if?

I don’t have the answers. And honestly, it hurts. It hurts to realize the people you would move mountains for wouldn’t even move a rock for you. It hurts knowing you’re the only one overthinking it, like I am right now.

It hurts when silence is their answer and your loudest thoughts go unheard. But maybe, just maybe… writing it down is the only thing I can do. Or what else can I do?.

Thank you for reading…

.

Going through hard times alone without having no one by your side.

You know that phase when your life feels like it is about to crumble down. You keep struggling, you continue pushing. But still, nothing feels right.

You look around and there is no one turn to. No friend, no family, to pick you back on your feet. No one, literally no one.

You struggle to breathe. You find yourself in tears. You ask yourself questions like: "Is that how bad a person I am?" "Is that how unworthy I am?".

Eventually, you cry yourself to sleep. A few hours later, you are up. You look at the clock and the answer finally ticks.

TAHAJJUD!!!

You get up like never before, and make wudu. You begin praying and when you finally get into the last prostration, every drop of tears comes pouring...

You find it unable to control yourself. You cry till your heart's content. And then after a while, you rise up and make teslim.

That moment, everything changed. It feels as if something heavy has been lifted from your heart. You feel lighter. All your worries suddenly disappear.

That is when it hits you:

"A time will come when there will be no one around you, no one to hear you or comfort you. But Allah will always be there, ready to listen, to comfort you because He is:

Ass-Salam: The source of peace. Al-Khabir: The one who is aware. As-Samī: The one who hears it all. Al-Basir: The one who sees it all. Al-Mughni: The one who enrich. Al-Hadi: The one who guides.

You then go back to bed like a new born baby who has nothing to worry about. Even without answers you feel safe and certain that everything will be fine.

Just like me, if you have also been there: I want you to know that tough times are a part of life and it doesn't last forever.

When everything looks like it is about to come to an end and there is no light visible at the end of the tunnel, remember: Allah is always right there, ready to listen and He has the solutions to all your problems.

Thank you for reading.

You know that feeling of just being there all your life? Not at the top, not at the bottom, but just somewhere in between. I know you're probably thinking of the word “average” and yes, that’s exactly what I mean. But the real question is... are we really average?

Sometimes, we find ourselves surrounded by people who seem to have it all figured out, people who are moving fast, achieving goals, breaking barriers, while we sit quietly, wondering if we missed our own turn. We start to measure our worth based on where we are, or worse, where we’re not. We start to believe that we’re not doing enough and that we’re falling behind and that we are just… Okay.

But who told you that “okay” isn’t enough? Who said that being somewhere in between means being lost? Truthfully, even now, I don’t really know where I stand. I have dreams, big ones, but I often don’t know if I’m walking toward them or around them. Some days, I wake up with energy, purpose, and zeal. Other days, I feel stuck, like the weight of uncertainty is heavier than my will to try.

It’s a strange place to be, not completely lost, but not fully found either. And the silence that comes with it? It’s loud. It echoes, almost deafening. It reminds you of all the things you’re not, before you even begin to affirm what you are.

But maybe… that’s okay. Maybe not having it all figured out doesn’t make you average. Maybe it just makes you human.

Growth isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it’s silent. Subtle. Invisible to the eye but deep within the heart. Sometimes, it looks like confusion. Like starting over. Like questioning everything you once felt sure of.

Sometimes, it’s just showing up, not with certainty, but with sincerity. Because being in the middle doesn’t mean you’re behind. It just means your story is still unfolding. And the most beautiful stories aren’t rushed.

So, if you’re somewhere in between, not quite where you want to be, but not where you used to be either, Take a deep breath. You're not average. You're not behind. You're not forgotten. You’re just becoming.

You are unfolding gently, honestly, and beautifully, In your own time, and at your own pace. And maybe, that’s where the magic is, not in being seen but in simply being.

Thank you for always reading.

I would love if you could share you honest thoughts in the comments.

See you soon.

I called someone and for the first time he picked up before the phone rang twice. Shocked and concerned, I asked if he was okay, because I was told by someone that he hasn't been reachable since yesterday.

His response was," I am okay, I will call the person back." But his voice was giving off a different story. He definitely was not okay. He is someone I don't know too deeply but I still cared about. I kept asking, but he kept giving the same response. I knew something was off. I figured, he probably didn't want to talk about it.

When I dropped the call, I couldn't get my mind off it. I knew something was wrong and he doesn't want to talk about it, but it still bothers me. And that is exactly what led to this.

I have this habit of caring too much. A slight change in someone's mood or voice, worries me a lot. Even when they try to hide it, it feels visible to me. And yeah, I can't unsee it or take my mind off it.

Just a few days ago, I was still talking to someone about how I noticed that he was acting differently, and it was only when he explained that my mind could feel at ease. And this happens quite often. I just can't help it knowing someone might be going through something alone and has no one to talk to about it with.

Trust me, most times I know it is not always my place to know, but my heart just can't bear it and my mind just can't stop wandering. And you know the strangest part is the fact that, if someone hurt me a moment ago and the next minute I see the person hurting, I would still worry and lend a hand to the person.

And yeah, I hear words like "You care too much" but to me there is no such thing, caring deeply isn't a flaw, it is a gift. Be it a stranger, a classmate, an old lady, a long time friend or even distant families, everyone deserves care.

So, if you have always been that person: the one who checks in when others don't, or the one who notices the little changes, or the one who worries when someone goes silent, or the one who would go a long way to replace a person's frown with a smile. Please, don't change, you are not doing too much, the world is only a better place because of someone like you in it.

So, don't let anyone ever let you stop being the caring and lovely soul you are. Even if you are not appreciated, thanked or noticed, someone out there feels lighter, breathes better and holds on tighter just because you cared.

And that is all that matters.

I never really understood what it felt like to be looked up to, until recently. And honestly, it feels like a weight I can’t carry. Every step I take feels watched. Every word I say, even the ones I whisper quietly, feels like it’s being measured.

The pressure to always show up, even when others don’t. The need to step up when others don’t feel the need to. It’s heavy.

I know that being a leader comes with responsibilities, expectations, and sacrifices. But at the end of the day, I am still just a person. A person with limits. A person trying.

How do I explain that; I want to be there, I try to be there, but sometimes, I just can’t be.

“Just do your best.” “Always be there.” I hear these statements all the time. But what if this is my best?

What if I can’t be the leader you imagine, the one who carries everyone’s burdens without faltering, the one who listens and agrees just to maintain peace, the one who puts everyone first while silently ignoring their own needs? What if I can’t be that person?

Because lately, my heart has been heavy. Heavier than I can admit out loud. And every time I feel it weighing me down, I find myself saying Astaghfirullah under my breath.

The truth is: I fear standing before Allah on the Day of Judgement and accounting for the leadership I may not have fulfilled justly.

And the scariest thought that visits me often is: What if my intentions drift, without me even realizing?

I fear showing off unintentionally. I fear becoming proud, even if it’s subtle. I fear committing minor sins carelessly. I fear being unjust while thinking I am being fair. I fear pleasing people so much that I forget my purpose is to please Allah. I fear losing myself while trying to lead others.

And in the process of trying to balance who I am and who I am expected to be, I keep reminding myself that at the end of the day: Everything I do should be for Allah alone.