Last year, I wrote about the fear of being perceived. I meant it then. I think I still mean it now but I’m learning what that fear actually cost me.

I told myself that I don’t need to be seen but I’m starting to understand the difference between preferring to work behind the scenes and hiding because you’re afraid of what happens when people actually know who you are.

The fear has teeth. It has made me timid about my ideas. It’s made me half-commit to things I actually care about and want to build.

I should know better right?

I’ve been a “student” of Austin Kleon for the longest. He says the act of showing itself is how you grow, not in spite of the risk, but because of it. You get feedback. You get seen. You get better because you’re accountable, not just to yourself but to the people watching.

If I want to build something and want to be taken seriously as someone thinking about it, I have to be knowable.

And it’s not even just about career ambition. As someone whose faith matters to me, as someone who wants to move forward and do better, that only happens when you’re willing to be seen, to be challenged, to be held accountable by the community around you.

I want to show up more because I’m starting to see that the cost of being unseen can be higher than the cost of being perceived.

For me, it’s not just the season of the “great lock-in, it’s motion season. Movement!

There are a few ways everyone knows. A lighter, a match, two stones struck against each other until a spark catches and so on. It’s simple if you have the tools but what happens when you don't?

You could be holding a rock with nothing to strike it against. You could have a matchstick and no matchbox. A lighter with no fuel left in it. All the right materials and still no fire.

Except there's one way to start a fire that doesn't need any of that.

You stand next to one that's already burning.

Fire doesn't ask you to manufacture it from nothing. It just asks you to get close enough to something that's already lit. You don't need to strike it, you catch it.

There is something about people that works the same way.

I know this from experience. You can catch things from people. Not literally but you can catch courage, curiosity, discipline, generosity, ambition and even a certain way of thinking about life.

You spend enough time around someone who is brave and suddenly doing the scary thing doesn't seem quite as impossible.

You spend enough time around people who read, ask questions and think deeply, and you start asking better questions yourself.

You spend enough time around people who take their health seriously and making healthier choices becomes easier.

You spend enough time around people who are intentional with their lives, and you start examining your own life differently.

This has been true for me.

I'm becoming braver because I keep brave people close to me. I'm healthier because the people around me treat their bodies like something worth caring for.

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We often talk about influence as though it is something dramatic. Sometimes it is simply standing close enough to something already burning and catching it. Proximity!

Which means the harder question isn't "how do I become brave" or "how do I become disciplined." It's "who am I standing next to."

You don't get the fire in isolation, you position yourself near it.

Sometimes discipline is about who you let close. Who you let sit near enough to you that their fire has a chance of becoming yours. There is no shame in borrowing a flame while you find your own.

That's not even about fire anymore. It was never about fire.

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What a concept, evolving into a better version of yourself as you age.

Growing older is a flex I only started embracing it last year when I was turning a very serious age, the kind of age you’d expect someone to be scared about. Even though not everything in my life was aligning the way I wanted it to, I was genuinely excited. This was completely different from the previous years.

When I turned 19, I wasn’t excited. When I turned 21, I was scared. That year was especially crazy. I was sad, depressed, overwhelmed.I remember clearly how heavy all those birthdays felt.

Last year, I just decided that I wanted to be happy regardless. Because really, what does it mean that you’re always sad on your birthday? What does that even accomplish? You spend the day being miserable and then later you regret it. You think, “I could have made the most out of that day.”

I told myself that no matter what stage of life I’m in, I will always celebrate a new age. I’m an advocate for celebrating new beginnings, whether it’s a new day, week or new year. So when it comes to a new age, why should I feel different? We’re all going to age, so why not be happy about it? Why spend your time wishing you were still younger or panicking about how fast life is moving?

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This anxiety often comes from personal and most especially, societal limitations placed on certain ages. Society has this checklist, especially for women, of what you should have accomplished, who you should be and what you should look like by specific ages. And when you’re not checking those boxes, aging starts to feel like failure instead of progress.

When you decide to be happy about aging, It shifts your perspective and how you make decisions. You’re no longer operating from anxiety. You’re not frozen, thinking, “Oh my God, what am I going to do?” You’re just moving forward with intention. “This is what needs to be done.”

My birthday is in February and I’ve decided that the whole month has to be a month of celebration. I feel strongly about that. Whatever happens during that time, joy has to lead it.

It doesn’t matter what stage of my life I’m at. I want to honor growth. I want to celebrate myself for still being here and still evolving.

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It’s a new year, and maybe you went through 2025 doing all the things, living your life, showing up for yourself. But at the end of the year when you tried to look back, you probably just remembered the big moments.

What about the Tuesday afternoon when something finally clicked?

The conversation that shifted how you think.

The book that made you so angry you had to put it down.

The moments with friends and family that never made it online.

Those little things matter.

Forgetfulness is easy these days. Life happens so fast and we’re onto the next thing before we’ve even processed the last.

So we forget. We forget the little things that would’ve reminded us we’re actually making progress.

Sometimes you need evidence. Not for other people. For yourself.

You need something to look back on when your brain tries to convince you that nothing happened, that you didn’t grow, that you’re still stuck in the same place.

That’s what documenting gives you. Evidence. A trail of breadcrumbs that shows you where you’ve been and how far you’ve actually come.

The Bible says to forget not the benefits of God. I take that seriously. On days when my heart feels heavy, when I feel stagnant, when it seems like I’m moving in circles, I go back to my records. Old journal entries. Old videos. Screenshots I saved.

And I see it. Oh, there is so much to be grateful for.

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Sometimes I’m surprised by what I find. The same issues coming up again and again. But I also see something else. I’m handling them differently and responding better.

One of the things I want to do this year is document more in videos.

I do a lot of writing. Pages and pages in journals, notes apps. I’m not mad about that. I’ll keep writing. Last year, I started recording videos, just me and my camera working through whatever was on my mind.

And when I go back to those videos? I’m always surprised.

For example, I found a video from months ago where I talked about wanting to get better at communication. I said I wanted to improve my confidence, to stop second-guessing every word that came out of my mouth.

It has significantly improved. I’m not where I want to be yet, but I can see the difference. It happened in conversations where I had to step out of my comfort zone and had to try even when it felt uncomfortable.

But here’s the thing: if I didn’t have that video, I wouldn’t be able to see how far I’ve come because I’d have nothing to compare it to.

That’s the power of documenting. It shows you progress you didn’t even know you were making.

So this year, let’s try not to forget. Let’s put things in remembrance, even the small things.

You don’t need to write essays. You don’t need perfectly curated photo dumps or aesthetic vlogs. Even if you can’t journal, even if you don’t have 100 words to say, I promise you, a sentence is enough.

“Had a good conversation with Ayo today.”

“Read a book that made me so mad I wanted to scream.”

“Felt proud of myself for showing up even though I didn’t want to.”

Just something. Anything that anchors the moment.

I was reading my journal from last year and found an entry about a book that pissed me off so bad. It was one of the coolest books I’ve read, but it made me so angry that I had to write about it. And when I found that two-paged entry? I laughed because seeing it brought everything back. The annoyance, the questions it raised and a lot more.

If I hadn’t written it down, that entire experience could’ve just disappeared.

This is also one of the reasons I created my Notion planner.

GET MY NOTION PLANNER HERE

It’s not just about productivity or checking off tasks. It’s also about documenting your life.

What did I do today? How did I do it? What did I read? How did I feel? What gifts did I give? What happened that I don’t want to forget?

It’s a space to track not just what you’re doing, but who you’re becoming.

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Because at the end of the year, I don’t just want to remember what I achieved. I want to remember what I felt. What I learned. How I changed. And the only way to do that is to DOCUMENT.

In 2026, let’s document our lives. The big things, the small things, the things we think we’ll remember but probably won’t.

Because memory is unreliable but documenting? That’s how you remember.

How are you going to document this year?

As always,

stay fly,

Bolanle.

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We’ve been conditioned to live “extra” cautiously. Don’t go out late. Don’t dress a certain way. Even when we’re just walking home, we’re alert. We share our locations with friends. We move smart because we have to.

Then someone asks, “Why did she go to his house?” “Why was she there alone?” “Why did she wear that?”

As if the victim should bear the blame. Society keeps policing women instead of holding men accountable. It’s still happening because i cannot for life of me believe some tweets i have seen these past few days.

There’s something deeply wrong with many of these men.

How do you look at a child and think that way?

How do you harm a two-year-old, a four-year-old or anyone at all?

Every day, there’s a new headline and this is not normal.

We live in a sick society driven by perversion.

Over the years, we’ve had too many hashtags:

These are the names we know and I cannot imagine the unknown cases of sexual assault and femicide.

What about the little girls who die in silence?

What about the women too scared to speak?

We mourn, tweet, demand justice and then move on until it happens again.

This cycle of outrage and silence continues because men still get away with being men.

Predators know the system will fail their victims because clearly our society favors these evil people.

In a country where justice is slow, justice often never comes. We just have to get justice by force.

Ochanya Elizabeth Ogbanje was born in 2005 in Benue State.

At eight, she was sent to live with her aunt and uncle for a better education.

From 2012 to 2018, lecturer Andrew Ogbuja and his son Victor raped her repeatedly.

She developed VVF(vesicovaginal fistula—a devastating internal injury caused by sustained sexual trauma), infections and paralysis.

Bedridden at 13, she died on October 17, 2018.

Her dying video testimony sparked the #JusticeForOchanya movement.

In 2023, her aunt Felicia was convicted of neglect and sentenced to five months in prison.

Andrew was acquitted for “insufficient evidence.”

Victor remains a fugitive.

Seven years later, which is now in 2025, protests, petitions and public outrage forced the Benue High Court to reopen Andrew’s case on October 31 after new evidence emerged.

Ochanya’s story is a reflection of what too many girls in Nigeria live through.

Until justice becomes certain, safety for women will remain a privilege instead of a right.

It makes me ask, what does it take to be safe in this country (or anywhere to be honest) as a woman?

To walk home without fear. To exist without being objectified. To report abuse and be believed. To get justice without having to beg for it. What does it even take for these evil things to not happen at all? It definitely shouldn’t take another tragedy.

It should take accountability. Laws that work. Systems that protect us. Men who choose decency. A sane society!

We cannot be the only ones asking these questions. We can’t keep fighting for safety while those who harm us go unpunished.

It is unacceptable!

Every time I clean up the little corner where I keep things I can’t let go of, I go through my old journals filled with ideas, prayers, to-dos, half-written poems and random names or feelings I didn’t want to forget.

I used to call my journals my second brain. I had an ecosystem of them: a prayer journal, a daily dump, a planner and others.

It was a chaotic but sacred space where I wrestled with ideas and let my thoughts flow. That was where I processed and reprocessed everything whether it made sense or not. That version of me feels like a stranger now.

Am I afraid to sit with my thoughts now or I’m just addicted to cheap dopamine?

At this point, we all are.

We don’t use our brains in the same way anymore. Our attention span is shorter. We are just on our phones way too much.

Even our conversations feel bland these days or maybe it’s just me. We’ve stopped giving our thoughts room to breathe, mostly because of doomscrolling and outsourcing too much to AI tools.

The problem isn’t using AI, it’s how we use it. These tools speed things up but also tempt us to think less. I catch myself handing over too much, from planning to problem-solving. For someone who used to be a serial planner and even built systems for different purposes, that feels like a problem. Sometimes I stop and think, “Wow Bolanle, you need to exercise your brain.”

We all should, before it gets completely fried. We’re slowly becoming dependent on shortcuts that weaken our ability to think independently. If we’re not careful, we’ll get to a place where we can’t even tell which thoughts are ours from what the algorithm feeds us.

I’m guilty of immediately looking for validation, trying to get other people’s words that articulate my thoughts better than I can. (Yet, I wonder why i struggle with being expressive these days🤡)

I saw a video where a babe said she’s going to start recording her thoughts on topics, mostly books before scrolling and reading other people’s opinions. That way, she maintains her intellectual agency. I’ve decided to do this also. I know my thoughts won’t always come out well-structured but at least they’ll be mine.

Cheers to keeping our brains alive!

• Stop reaching for my phone first thing in the morning

• Journal more

• Move my body every day

• Read something daily, whether it’s an article, blog post or book

• Engage with what I consume. Annotate, write or talk about it. Stop being a passive listener/reader

• Let myself be bored. I can’t remember the last time i ate a meal without YouTube or scrolling

• Build a dopamine menu with healthier options

Recently in Media,

I read I Who Have Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman. It’s a basically book about isolation, time and what it means to exist. I had too many questions after reading this book and i absolutely loved it.

This video essay »»»

Stay fly,

Bolanle.

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People love to argue about whether Sunday or Monday is the official start of the week. Me? I honestly don’t know. All I know is my week has no real structure. No proper weekends. Just random off days that feel like stolen time.

My time doesn’t feel like mine anymore. Even when I’m not physically at work, I’m still working in my head, planning the next thing. The lines are blurred. “It’s the nature of the job,” they say. But that line doesn’t make it any less exhausting.

I don’t even know how to fully say this but the quality of my life? It’s been dragging.

It gets good sometimes, a week or two where I’m intentional and doing all the things that make me feel whole. Then I crash.

I get through the day but I’m not really living. It’s me surviving.

It’s an annoying cycle that I’m genuinely tired of. I think I’ve been on autopilot longer than I’d like to admit and I’m not just mentally tired. My body is tired too.

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All I want is rhythm. Not just rest.

I want to stop fighting for my life every month.

You know, some people have systems. They have routines that hold them when they’re slipping.

I’ve tried. I’ve read Atomic Habits. I know the quote:

You don’t rise to the level of your goals; you fall to the level of your systems.

But how do you build systems when everything feels like it’s working against you?

How do you find consistency when your life feels like a series of emergencies?

I just want a life I don’t have to keep rescuing.

A life that feels structured, not chaotic and reactive.

So yeah. This is where I’m at.

Doing this for seven days is a big deal for me because I can’t remember the last time I said I was going to do something consistently and actually followed through. An hour ago, I didn’t even know what today’s post would be about until I was on a call with my friend ranting and I just thought to write about this.

I told people on my snap story to share what they’d like me to write about and some of the suggestions were quite interesting but I think I’d get into some of those topics one of these days, just not today.

Thank you for reading about my random scattered thoughts for the past seven days.

I’m just a girl documenting her thoughts and experiences in her twenties.

I’ll still be here writing once or twice in a month.

Stay fly,

Bolanle

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When you grow up as the firstborn daughter in a typical African home, everyone’s wahala becomes your wahala. You’re the caretaker. The role model. The dependable one. You grow up fast. You learn to anticipate other people’s needs before they even speak them. When you try to choose yourself, you might be called selfish or even wicked. You could even get gaslighted into thinking you’re the worst person ever.

I carried the classic firstborn weight on my back: Be responsible. Know better. Don’t mess up, your siblings are watching. Make us proud. I can remember how these things were said to me especially in my teenage years.

I did the best I could but that kind of constant performance comes with a price. If you’re a firstborn daughter, there’s a high chance you’ve lived through a people-pleasing era.

As an adult, I still carry that weight but in a different dynamic.

I saw a tweet once that said:

And unfortunately… that tracks.

We become emotional sponges for our families. The strong ones. The ones everyone leans on to be okay, so they can be okay. But who do we lean on?

I want to be cared for too. I want to be considered.

Being the dependable one but not knowing how to be vulnerable when you need something is probably the hardest.

So you keep it moving and figure things out alone. You learn how to survive with your walls up and your smile intact.

I say this sometimes and people think it’s weird but I genuinely believe I’d be fine if I ended up single for the rest of my life. Do I want that? No, I definitely want my own person.

But I’ve become so content in my own company, so used to figuring things out alone that the idea doesn’t scare me.

One time, a friend called me out on my behavior whenever someone tries to help me.

I didn’t even realize how much of a wall I’d built. How I go through hard things silently and then pretend I’m fine, when in reality there are people who want to be there for me. I just haven’t known how to let them.

I’m learning now.

Learning to “be” around my friends who don’t mind carrying me a little. Learning to let them.

Recently, I made a quiet decision to start being selfish. Not in a reckless, “me against the world” way but in the deliberate way of choosing myself. Quite frankly, I’m failing at that.

In small ways I’m trying.

I’m learning to say no when I need to.

I’m learning to stop over-explaining myself.

I’m learning to ask for help, even when my voice shakes.

And most importantly, I’m learning to believe that I’m worthy of being considered too.

Stay fly,

Bolanle.

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Do you have that one person who’s always cheering you on no matter what? The kind of person who, even if you don’t talk every day (or at all) still finds a way to show they’re rooting for you?

That’s who Busola is to me.

She’s always there.

I remember back in uni, when I had a blog. She was always so supportive. Always reading, texting whenever a post resonated with her. “Oh, I read your blog,” “That was so relatable.” The kind of feedback that made me feel like someone was paying attention. Like my words mattered. I also randomly remember that one person who used to leave full-on paragraph comments on my blog. Never just one-liners. I felt like i was doing a very important thing.

Just recently, I stumbled on one of Busola’s voice notes in my file from 2022. I had saved it without even realizing. It reminded me again of her warmth. The next day i saw a tweet where she mentioned my newsletter.

I properly met Busola in 200 level. I’d seen her around in 100 level when she’d visit our department with her cousin. I recognized her face but we didn’t really speak. It wasn’t until 200 level that we started exchanging little “hi’s” and “hello’s.” Then it grew slowly into those quick one-minute check-ins whenever we ran into each other.

That’s us. Nothing intense. But always warm. Always comforting.

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Asides from her warmth, Busola is a funny babe too. I see her tweets and just burst out laughing. I’ve literally woken up at 3am, opened Twitter half-asleep and the first thing I see is her tweet and I just started laughing. Sometimes I wonder if that babe even sleeps.

Funny thing is I’ve never even spent a full hour with her. But I imagine if we ever did, I’d be laughing the whole time.

Busola is kind to me in ways she might not even realize.

She’s one of those people who makes me feel seen. Genuinely seen.

Even on the days I want to be inconsistent, like today where I almost skipped, I think of her and I show up. Just for Busola.

So, here’s to the Busolas in our lives, those gentle constants, the quiet supporters, the people who remind us that we matter, even when we forget.

Stay fly,

Bolanle

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I’m a sucker for friendship and the idea of it.

I truly believe that if you can’t be a good friend, you most certainly can’t be a good partner. It’s just that simple.

Friendship is like a little piece of magic tucked into everyday life. There’s something beautiful about being chosen again and again by people who see you, know you and still decide to stay, not out of obligation or romantic expectation but simply because they care.

All my friendships through every phase of my life have served their time and served me well. I remember every single friend I’ve ever had, how I loved them and how badly behaved I was to some of them.

Was it the friends I walked home from school with? The ones I talked about books with? Or even those I listened to go on about skincare in secondary school? From primary school to secondary school and even in church. Dare I say, the best forms of love I’ve experienced came through those friendships.

I still adore my friends, even the ones I’m no longer as close to. Even if time has done its usual thing and created space between us, I remember the moments shared.

I have male friends too but I’ve never bought into that “female friendships are stressful, so I’d rather be friends with boys” narrative. That to me is more than a preference, it’s a reflection of self. I quietly assume you might not like yourself all that much.

Yes, female friendships can be emotional, layered, even dramatic but they can also be some of the safest, most beautiful spaces to exist in. I’ve laughed the loudest, cried the hardest and healed the most in the arms of women. The kind of support I’ve gotten from female friends has saved me more than once.

That said, I’ve had my share of falling-outs. But not the messy, shouting-match kind.

Mine are usually… quiet.

There’s a saying “Twenty friends can’t play together for twenty years.”

I think I finally get it now.

I never imagined I’d lose some friendships, especially not like this. No fight. No tension. No harsh words. Just… silence. A slow, mutual drift. There was no effort to hold on or fix it. Sometimes, growing apart doesn’t need a reason.

Whenever people share stories about friendships ending with betrayal, screaming, or even violence, I’m always shocked. In all my years, I’ve never experienced that level of chaos in a friendship. Maybe I will someday but I hope not. It still baffles me, how does it get that far?

Friendship is still one of the deepest kinds of love I’ve known.

Even the endings teach me something.

Even the silence carries weight.

So here’s to the people who choose to see me in my rawest moments and still call me home. For the inside jokes, the shared playlists, the screenshots and the hugs in hard seasons.

To the ones that held me, the ones I had to let go of (or let go of me) and the ones I haven’t met yet. Thank you.

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Today in media

Ctrl+Alt+Feelings

I Love You, But I’ll Probably Not Text Back

Our language is sneakily wise sometimes. It gave us two words for being alone: loneliness and solitude. Same root, different flavor. One is the ache of being left out. The other is the joy of opting out. I, naturally, have made a lifestyle out of the latter. A whole love affair, honestly. Me and solitude? Soulmates. It feels like home. And somewhere alo…

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a year ago · 61 likes · 11 comments · Amina Lawal

No words, I just love this babe’s content

Guess who still hasn’t listened to the podcast from yesterday 🫣

Also, I abandoned the book from yesterday, I’ll just get the audio book and continue. That’s honestly the best way I can get through a book for now.

Stay fly,

Bolanle.

Sometimes I think what’s holding me back isn’t lack of skill or effort. It’s the fear of being perceived.

It’s strange, right? Like… I want to be successful. I want to do the things on my heart and do them well. But I don’t necessarily want to be seen while I’m doing them. I don’t want to be loud. I don’t want to be out there. I just want to do my thing quietly and go.

Behind the scenes feels safe. Nobody’s watching too closely or expecting too much. But deep down, I know that to reach a certain level of growth or opportunity, you kind of have to be seen.

It is terrifying and it’s not because I think I’ll fail. But because I don’t want to be watched as I try.

I see people who put themselves out there loud, proud and confident. They don’t seem to care how they’re perceived. They talk about what they do and show up unapologetically. Sometimes, I envy that. Other times, I shrink back and think, “That could never be me.”

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In my own quiet way, I’m trying.

I did something recently that felt small but huge to me. I spoke up in a meeting, that’s all. I usually say nothing. I stay quiet and observe.

And when I do speak or show up, a new fear creeps in. Now people are watching and there are expectations. I’m wondering if I can live up to this version of me that people think they’ve seen.

The thing is I don’t want to be seen while I’m still becoming.

I want to be seen when I’m done. When I’m perfect.

Growth doesn’t work that way. We have to show up even while we’re still figuring it out. Even when it’s uncomfortable and we’d rather hide.

So today I’m going to be a little braver and show up not loudly, not performatively, just honestly.

And maybe that’s enough for now.

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Today in media

I started reading The Seven Year Slip by Ashley Poston. Just a few pages in so I don’t have thoughts about it yet.

Motunrayo might drag me for this, but I’m just about to listen to this week’s episode of I Said What I Said.

This was the first video I saw when I opened YouTube this morning and I like it.

Stay fly,

Bolanle.

Back in our old area, there was no way I’d be caught sitting outside at night. That was an automatic punishment. I was always indoors. But here? Things were different. One of the first things I started doing after we moved was sitting outside at night to “collect fresh air.”

But that didn’t last long.

I saw things I had only read in books and some other, I just didn’t believe could happen somewhere in Lagos, Nigeria.

One night, I saw two girls in school uniforms kissing behind a danfo bus. I remember staring, confused, thinking I was seeing things. But I wasn’t. It was real and that uniform was for an all-girls school. I wasn’t losing my mind.

Another night, a car was parked right in front of our house. It was shaking. People were inside. I was confused at first, but I figured out what was going on. I don’t need to say more.

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There are mentally unstable people around, and I had always been aware of that. But there was one guy in particular who taunted me every time I passed by just because I wouldn’t acknowledge him. He would hurl insults and say the nastiest things. I had never experienced that level of constant harassment, at least not in my old neighborhood.

One day, I wasn’t having it. So I called my dad. I don’t even think I expected much from him but he drove straight to the area the next morning and we found this guy. My dad gave him a punch that led to a nosebleed. It was very satisfying. Just like that, the taunts stopped.

Till today, he sees me but never says a word.

Then there were the street fights. Our street versus the one opposite. For a whole week, shops would close by 5 p.m. because once night fell, it was war. Hoodlums with sacks of bottles would head to the bus stop and start launching them across. The other side responded in kind. And for days, it was back and forth like we were stuck in some kind of local war.

And then there was the fight over N300. One guy tried to break it up and got stabbed. He died. Just like that.

You’d think my mum would learn from that, but over a year later, she tried to separate a fight between our neighbor and her son. She got injured. That time, she learned.

Let’s not even get into this particular neighbor and their family drama.

I’ve experienced so much living here and sometimes I wonder how different my life would have been if we didn’t move here. Would I still know the things I know now? Would I still carry this part of me? Would I still have this lens through which I see life?

Some of my neighbors say I don’t fit in here. Others think I’m “forming.” But they don’t understand the dissonance of growing up two different people in two different places. They don’t know the version of me that existed before Adetola Street.

As much as I hated living here at first, Adetola Street shaped me in a way. It taught me that people survive in ways you can’t always judge until you’ve seen what they’ve lived through.

And maybe, just maybe, it taught me how to survive too.

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(I changed the name of the street because i know there are creeps everywhere lol)

Recently in media

I read Yellowface by R. F kuang. The main character annoyed me from the very first chapter. Loved the book but hated the ending.

I watched A Lagos love story on Netflix and i enjoyed every bit of it. There were too many takes on the movie on Social Media but this is my vibe honestly. I love movies like this.

I absolutely love Jenn IM’s storytelling.

Toni is Typing

Actually, Everything Is That Deep.

I've been told on numerous occasions that I ask a lot of questions, and this is true. I do, in fact, like to examine and dissect information when it's given to me. I see this as an essential quality to navigate day-to-day life, and I'm noticing more and more as the world continues to burn right before our eyes that this quirk…

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2 years ago · 3869 likes · 46 comments · Antonia George

Share Growth + Living

Stay fly,

Bolanle

Right now, I’m listening to this playlist

Somehow, my mind drifts to love, Valentine’s, all of it. Maybe it’s the season or it’s the fact that I’ve never really been in love.

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I’ve been in relationships - one at 16, another at 23 but love? Not quite. I’m a recovering avoidant who still finds vulnerability challenging and you need that to be in love, right? I sometimes wonder if it’s even for me. If I’m wired for it. Or am I just… too careful. Careful not to need too much and not to give too much.

This thing called love, what is it really? A feeling? A choice? A risk? Or everything all at once?

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I’m not a stranger to love, or at least the idea of it. I know love in the best forms —the kind found in friendships that feel like home and the love that God is; steady and unwavering. These two make up the love I know today, the truest form I’ve experienced. Maybe that is enough.

Still, valentine’s is around the corner, and love is in the air but so is whatever has my throat scratchy and my body sore. Maybe this is how love creeps in unnoticed and just maybe I won’t resist it when it comes for me.

Writing this whilst listening to that playlist brought back a wave of nostalgia, so I decided I’ll re-read Along for the Ride by Sarah Dessen and re-watch the adaptation. It’s one of those books about self discovery and love I read at fourteen, so it’ll always have a special place in my heart. I also started reading Everything I Know About Love by Dolly Aderton.

Covered

Record your life, write it all.

When my parents decided to move for the fifth time while I was in school, I grabbed the huge clear IKEA box and stuffed my books in there. These were as precious as things could get, and as tender as my heart, these paperbacks were the only thing worth saving. Little Mary loved many things, and the books were more than love…

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2 years ago · 539 likes · 22 comments · Mary.T

I came across this video and I love this woman

Stay fly,

Bolanle.

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It wasn’t a bad month, not exactly the best either but as we know a good day, good week, or good month doesn’t just happen to you, you create it.

This is how I had a good month

Step 1: Mindset Shift

I caught myself thinking small.

I was having a conversation with my friend about something I was hoping to achieve, and in the same breath, I listed all the reasons I didn’t think it was achievable. I felt so stupid.

I realized it wasn’t just some passing doubt—I actually believed it. And it wasn’t the first time the thought crossed my mind; the only difference was that I said it out loud this time.

Small thinking creeps in subtly, doesn’t it? It convinces you to play it safe, to settle, to stop dreaming big.

I was reminded to shift my mindset. No matter how big and scary my dreams seem, I must always “think possibilities.”

Step 2: Eat Apples

One Tuesday night, my friend and I found a woman selling apples somewhere in Iyana Ipaja market. I was initially annoyed at the price, but I bought them anyway. At the first bite, I thought, “This is the sweetest apple I’ve ever tasted.” Sweet, juicy, and crispy.

I went back again two days later. And again. And again.

As wild and draining as the month felt, those apples became my little pockets of joy.

So were the daily snaps from a friend, always attached with some hilarious sound that cracked me up every morning.

Step 3: Quit Social Media

Then, I quit social media. Not all of it, just Twitter and TikTok for now.

I’ve gone months without social media, and I love what it does for me. But because of my job, it has become so hard to quit it completely. So I set limits. I ignored it on some days, while on others, I followed those limits strictly.

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Step 4: Fight for Your Joy

It felt like a fight to have a good start to the year because I was really starting to think there were invisible forces working against me. But I’m here, and that’s all that matters right now.

Step 5: No Pressure

I’m all for taking the first few weeks of the year slow. No pressure whatsoever.

If you’re like me and you’re trying to build habits that stick, you might just need to start by focusing on not missing two days in a row instead of trying to maintain a perfect 31-day streak. It’s better than staying consistent for six days and falling off for the next seven.

Step 6: Document

Something I did differently this month was documenting.

Maybe it’s because I didn’t want to be that person from last year who documented nothing and struggled to remember certain highlights. I documented in writing, in photos, and in videos. I documented in every way possible, and I love that for me.

I hope you had a good month too. Tell me about it🫣

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Admittedly, I did not have TikTok on my phone for most of 2024. But on Saturday night, I got into bed at 9pm and scrolled through videos of influencers saying goodbye to the platform that changed their lives. Their expressions of gratitude were so dramatic and teary-eyed they almost seemed truthful. Creators also posted compilations of clips from the la…

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2 years ago · 2587 likes · 96 comments · Arden Yum

Esther Lune

Feed me Validation

I expected to be in some mood to write this essay. I wanted to be filled with a range of emotions so I could write aesthetically well and so that you could all clap for me and tell me how great a writer I must be. However, this is the exact plight of why I write. Why am I so boundlessly reckless for your validation? Why do I need you to put a spoon of y…

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2 years ago · 11 likes · 2 comments · Bakare Ayomide

starved.

obsession will save you

in 2018 i read Henry Worsley’s profile in the New Yorker. it was on his journey in the footsteps of explorer Ernest Shackleton, who once tried to solo trek across …

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2 years ago · 121 likes · 15 comments · bree beauregard

Stay fly,

Bolanle

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I’m at the salon, getting my low-budget ponytail done. Sitting under this hairdryer blowing really hot air, I find myself reflecting on the past year and how much I don’t want a repeat of some parts of it.

2024 was the year I lived less intentionally, I was just breezing through each day.  Don’t get me wrong, there were some significant changes in certain areas of my life but my true core was starved. My mind, body, and soul suffered in ways I didn’t realize until later.

It’s easy to get lost in the busyness of life and lose our spark - our essence, the wonder that keeps us alive. It becomes easier to go further away from everything that makes you… you.

Now, I’m committed to living again. To rediscover the things that makes me feel alive. Writing this to you is one of those things.

I know how hard change is and the level of consistency and intensity it requires.

For me, it means starting small with zero pressure to magically change my life overnight. Just baby steps… steady ones.

What keeps your wonder alive?

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I’m finding my wonder again.

Finding joy in the simple things and the big ones too. Learning. Building my routine from scratch. Reading. Journaling. Dancing(though I’m terrible at it). Finding new hobbies. Sitting at the feet of Jesus. Being intentional. Documenting life. Expanding my mind. Embracing curiosity.

I hope that you never lose your wonder. That you nurture it and hold onto it tightly. Stay alive.

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(I miss this little corner so much)

Currently reading these books, i like starting the year with non fiction which I why I started The 12 Week Year by Brain P. Moran. I abandoned Ghostroots by Pemi Aguda since December so I decided to pick it up again.

I’m following this babe’s journey to change her life in six months and it’s pretty interesting. Absolutely love it.

My current faves 🎶

Stay fly,

Bolanle.

Hello real one💜

If you're reading this, you definitely made it through the first half of the year. *Take that in for a minute*

How are you? I really missed writing to you.

Thanks for sticking around real one.

It's been three months since I last wrote to you and not so much changed since then. One significant thing that happened this first half is my status changing from student to unemployed.

P.S - Bolanle doesn't know what to do with her life.

Am I the only one who feels the year is moving a little too fast? How did we get here?

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I'm glad I was so intentional about documenting each month, I literally made tiktok my visual diary for each month. It has made it easy for me to look back and be grateful for certain moments because it can be so easy to forget. On days my feelings are spiraling, I just go back to these pictures, videos and even journal entries.

Documenting has also helped me in tracking my progress and I also get to see areas I'm slacking. As I write this, I have areas I'm slacking and I know I need to get myself together starting with this newsletter I've been trying to draft for three months.

If you haven't been documenting whether by taking pictures, videos or even journaling, you should start doing that. Start with whatever comes easy for you, baby steps.

You should definitely start with a mid year reflection especially if you feel like so much hasn't happened.

I noticed that in periods like this when others are sharing their wins so far and all the good stuff, it's very easy to fall into the lie comparison feeds you. Do not measure your growth based off someone else's journey.

Now grab a pen and a note pad (or just open your notes app) and let's get into it ⏩

You can use this below for your plans for the next half.

Set at least one non-negotiable for each aspects.

This is my reminder for you to keep going, stand strong and LIVE💜

Like is said in my first newsletter of the year;

Live intentionally. Take God seriously. Make the best out of 2023.

Stay fly,

Bolanle.

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It's still your best year yet.

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Hi

How have you been?

Pause and really be honest with yourself.

I hope you're having a great month, I really do.

I don't know if I'm the only one who had a lapse in her goals and streaks. All the ginger I came into the year with just evaporated because I got thrown off by a minor thing. I'm the type of person that gets really affected with the kind of environment I'm in and it's takes a lot for me to actually make it work. My physical environment can literally impact me mentally.

I'm trying to get myself back on track because like I said, I have so much expectations for this year and I won't be side tracked by any flimsy reason.

I think you should get yourself back on track also if you're in the same shoes as I am.

Some of the things that has been helping me kick start my ginger are;

1. Investing in my personal growth

I attended a vision board class by Temi Salami and it was worth it. I wanted to attend this class in January but I missed it for some reasons. Taking the class just reminded and taught me a lot about goals and what to do with visions and prophecies.

Investing in yourself could also be reading a book, watching that YouTube video, taking that course or whatever it is that works for you.

2. Reminding myself of my expectations/goals

Reading my journal entries from the last week of 2022 till now really pumped me up because I was reminded of the state of mind I came into the year with and my expectations. Although there aren't drastic changes yet, I can see the subtle ones and that just makes me so happy and content in my process. I've become more intentional about going through my 2023 Notion page to remind myself of how I want my year to be.

Let me know in the comment section if you'll like a free notion template 😉

P.S: if you've not started Journalling or keeping records of your experiences. I think you should start doing that.

3. Re-aligning myself with God

There are times when we begin to move in directions we're not supposed to be moving and it's important to retrace your steps and be in alignment with our creator. Being in partnership with God is the best thing that can happen to someone.

4. Starting again

I like to remind myself that loosing streaks shouldn't be the reason I completely stop doing something. It's all about how I pick myself up again after falling. On that note, I started taking my french lessons again on Duolingo and I started a small business (again). Dare I say Bolanle is the queen of starting over and over again. If you've known me for a long time you would know that I've ventured into a series of small businesses but none lasted long enough) and it has taught me a lot. Now I’m building Adorn by B which is an online accessories store (that offers gift curation on the side) that is specifically to make you and/or your loved ones look and feel chic at affordable prices.

Be sure to shop from us today at Adorn by B

5. Being disciplined

I'm pursuing excellence and to get that I know that I have to be consistent and disciplined. So now I don't just rely on just motivation to do things, I just have to actually get things done. This is the year we stop being complacent.

P.S: It's also very important to understand rest so you don't get drained.

Remember what I said in the first newsletter this year;

Go at your pace. Live intentionally. Take God seriously. Make the best out of 2023.

As always,

Stay fly!

Recap in Media

I just finished reading Bloodmarked by Tracy Deonn which is the second book in her Legendborn series and it was WOW! I absolutely loved it and can't wait for the third book.

I started watching School Spirits and the suspense is killing me. I can't wait for the next episode.

This tweet»

Came across this really cool playlist

I hope you enjoy the rest of your week and I'd love to hear from you so be sure to leave a comment 💜