Sometimes we get cut up with what we have and we forget to be grateful for it, you have an opportunity and you're like, "I'll pass," but someone out there is wishing and hoping they get such an opportunity. You have people that remind you that they love you and you take them for granted, whereas they are a bunch of people out there, without family, without people that even remember them, not to talk of showing them love. You want something and you eventually get it, even if it's after a month or a year at max, and you're pissed at that fact? But somewhere, someplace, somebody is praying to get at least one of all the list of things they want.

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Wishes, a weird thing or feeling, honestly can't say what it is, but everyone has one, whether good or bad. A wish, what exactly is a wish? How does one describe the feeling of wishing for something or someone? I wish I understand, (honestly, think I misuse the word) but in all honesty, I just want to understand it.

One thing I know for a certain is that some wishes do come through and some dies with us, but isn't that the same with wants? When I want something it isn't really a necessity but just something I feel would probably make me feel better, prettier, smarter, hotter or somewhere better than I was without it. So when I wish for something isn't it the same?

Well, I guess I'll do some research about that, but for now I just want to be grateful, to be grateful to my Lord, for the gift of life, people, situations, occasions, and everything at large honestly.

Maybe that is what I need right now, gratitude. Maybe I have spent so much time looking at the things I do not have that I have forgotten to look at the things I do. Maybe I have been so focused on the wishes that have not come through that I have forgotten about the ones that did.

Because if I really think about it, there are so many things I once wished for that are now just a normal part of my life. Things I once prayed about, cried about, waited for, and wondered if I would ever have. And now I have them. I have people I once wished to have. I have opportunities I once thought were too far away from me. I have moments I once imagined in my head and now somehow, I am living them.

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But then again, why do we get so used to the things we prayed for?

Why does something we once considered a blessing eventually become something we feel entitled to? Why does the excitement fade? Why do we start looking for the next thing almost immediately after getting what we wanted?

Maybe that is just how humans are. Maybe we are always looking for something more. Something bigger. Something better. And maybe there is nothing wrong with wanting more, but I think there is something wrong when wanting more makes us forget what we already have.

I do not want to be that person.

I want to be able to look around me and actually see the things I have. I want to appreciate the people in my life while they are still here. I want to enjoy the little things without constantly waiting for something bigger to happen. I want to be grateful for the answered prayers and even for the unanswered ones.

Because maybe some of the things I call unanswered prayers are actually protection. Maybe some of the things I thought I needed would have hurt me if I had gotten them when I wanted them. Maybe some of the things I am currently upset about will make sense someday.

I do not know.

And honestly, I think that is the hardest part of life. Not knowing.

Not knowing when something will happen. Not knowing why something happened. Not knowing if the thing you have been waiting for is coming or if you are simply supposed to let it go.

But I guess that is where faith comes in. To believe even when you cannot see. To wait even when you are tired of waiting. To trust that there is a reason even when the reason is not clear yet.

Maybe I'm not wishing enough.

Or maybe it's not my time.

Maybe I am supposed to wait a little longer. Maybe I am supposed to learn something before I get there. Maybe I am supposed to become someone who can handle the thing I am asking for.

And maybe, just maybe, I already have more than I realise.

So for now, I think I will stop counting the things I am waiting for and start counting the things I have.

I will be grateful. For the life I have. For the people I have. For the things that worked out and the things that did not. For the doors that opened and the ones that remained closed. For the wishes that came through and the ones that did not.

Because there is still so much to be grateful for.

And maybe that is enough for today.

📍Hi, my loveeee.🥹

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🌸 It's a pleasure to be here and this was again written from a part of my heart to you, with love.❤️

Thank you for reading.

With Love,

Maryam_xo.💕

It also gave me the universe, my support system (chuckles), that keeps holding me even when my heart pushes me to fall. Its warm hands are never far-fetched. Somehow, there is always something, someone, somewhere reminding me that I am not entirely alone.

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Oh, sweet life, why did you bless me with such a heart? Beautiful it is, even while bleeding. A heart that feels too much, gives too much, and somehow still finds a way to love after everything.

Oh, life, why did you give me such a universe? Mine, yet a thousand’s at the same time. Familiar, yet belonging to so many others. Was I meant to share that which I thought was mine? Was it ever really mine? Were we always sharing?

Why then is it called mine?

Why then is this called mine?

Why then am I left to paddle it alone?

Why then am I the pilot of this life if it isn’t mine alone?

Maybe that is the irony of it all. Maybe nothing was ever truly mine to keep. Maybe I was only given the privilege to hold certain things for a while, to love them, to learn from them, to lose them, and sometimes, to find them again in places I never expected.

And perhaps that is what life has always been trying to teach me, that I can hold the world in my hands without owning it, and I can love people deeply without being promised that they will stay.

So I keep moving.

I keep loving.

I keep learning.

And even when I don’t understand why I was given this particular life, I am slowly learning to live it anyway with all its questions, all its beautiful chaos, and all the things I am yet to understand.

Your dearest,

Maryam_xo.💕

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With Love,

Maryam.❤️✨

Alone, tired, overwhelmed,

But then it just snapped,

And now I don't care,

I don't care if it all goes down the drain,

Cause I was long gone in the midst of finding you.

But now you have yourself and your people,

The ones who will always be a priority,

The ones that weren't there but meant a lot nevertheless,

The ones that broke you but I had to fix,

Cause I was long gone in the midst of finding you.

Now you'll never find me,

You'll search, maybe

You'll want me, maybe

But in every of the maybe situations

They'll never be a me for you to find

They'll only be images of yourself staring back at you

Cause I was long gone in the midst of finding you.

Now I'll find me instead,

I'll listen,

Care more,

Love more,

But they'll only be to myself

Cause this time I won't be gone while searching for you.

Cause there wouldn't even be a you to search for.

📍This is not a I'm back message, it's rather a I'm finding me one. If you wish to be here when I'm fully back you can join the family.

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🥀 Sadly i might not be here for another gazillionnnn days, but I'll try to show up, it's part of finding me in the end.

Thank you for staying this long,

With Love,

Maryam_xo.💕

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The world started with a man but grew with a woman's touch. From the onset life has always revolved around women, their attributes, contributions, capabilities and infidelities in the most odd manner.

Woman, a word used to describe a being with resilience, perseverance, immense strength, and undoubted wit. A being with the sole power to bring out life or destroy it. A being so powerful, she had to be named WOMAN.

Toture, worthlessness, slavery are small of the many hardships many have face and with the push and resilience of some notable women and men we all stand today in a world that women can now share equal rights as men. Would it be fair to talk about this and not give the crown to those who have earned it?

So today I remind you of the likes of Malala Yousafzai of Afghanistan ( a survivor of the Taliban suffering), our very own Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti of Nigeria, Hajia Gambo Sawaba of Nigeria, Aisha Yesufu of Nigeria, Federick Douglas of USA, Marquis de Condorcet of France, and many more that fought continuously for the rights we now enjoy.

You ask me why I celebrate men with us, well over the years we've grown to have men be the backbone of these our heroes, starting from our own Israel Kuti that supported Funmi's every step till his last breath. Men are undeniably a essential part of the world like women are and we were made for one another.

So yes, today I celebrate you, me and most importantly the men that staked their ego, put on the shoes of shame as their fellow men would have called it and danced to beat of justice.

A woman, isn't just a girl, lady or woman, she's the beginning as well as the end of life.

🥀 Different name,

Different race,

Different colour,

Different originality,

But still it sums them all up,

Woman.

The definition of multi tasking, resilience, perseverance, strength, remarkable wit, and love.

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Thank you for reading.

With Love,

Maryam_xo.💕

‘MEN, the capital issue of every woman anywhere,WOMEN-the sole problem of every man out there’. Growing up I've been influenced, introduced to some thoughts on this stereotype, according to Nigerian men, all women, lady that comes close to them wants cash, gifts, liquidity, financial balance from them. You'll hear them saying “na person wey guide dey pack babe” and to be honest they are not wrong, they are expressing the truth but the problem lies in the thought that has been passed through and has become a stereotype “women only wants cash or something”. A mindset that has destroyed a lot of relationships, ruined some life long achievements and has caused unnecessary toxicity online and offline.

“ Men are scum” “They would just use you” as a growing girl I have heard, seen and watched a lot of shows, listen to a tons of podcasts and destroying and defaming men has to be that topic they all enjoy. As expected it became a part of me, I was an extremist and most of the male that approached me i had it in my head that they were it- scum just there to tear apart my life. Of course I have a dad, a brother, plenty of make cousins and a handful of make friends. I kept telling myself for years that it's a all men thingy and it just worsened when I started watching documentaries, watching court cases. 90% of rape cases had female has the victim and they had abusers that were proud of their actions, they laughed it out and joked about it even in court, they were all just so disgusting. At that point I made up my mind, I was ready to drag every man on earth to be a disgusting person, my dad and all inclusive.

I dropped my family and friends after a while even though I was always skeptical then it happened, a girl came out talking about how she was gRAPED. Rape would always be my most hated topic to talk about, a non-gender based abuse that can either be hetero or homo. Rape is unjustifiable, unforgivable. I was in an argument with someone and he mentioned it ‘ the generalisation’ honestly it didn't click, I didn't even give modest replies to his other points and just ended it there but I'm the kind to always reflect after an argument, so I did just that- I asked myself ‘where was I wrong?’. I was so emotionally invested in the case and I was just talking and talking, not even on my facts on facts that have been gathered but not confirmed.

Myself and many others driven with emotional hate have generalised in this and many incidents of rape, We've pointed out, stood up and raised out voices but asking the line we forgot that you CAN'T discuss rape without mentioning false rape allegations, we can't be interested in fighting for rape victims and shut up when the allegations turns out false. We can't be against rape and turn a blind eye when the victim is male or the ABUSER is a woman. I personally think that we've been or I've been stereotypically groomed, influenced to think the worst of some certain things and this happens to be one of them, I never really imagined for a tiny bit that it could be false, it's gRAPE We're talking about- something severe enough to cost the victim his or her life. It's a shame I lost the argument but at least I got to see things differently.

I will always stay in support of grape and other abuse victims but to form an opinion based on what people are saying or passing about is something I'm certainly not going anywhere close to again, the fact that the hatred has even made us shift attention from the actual victim and turn the story into a gender-based battle, a time to proof that men are evil or women are in the wrong- we don't even for a moment stop to think about the victim. Stereotype and generalisation are just agendas that someone somewhere started and now the motion is moving and the agenda is agending.🥀

My thoughts as it came…🙂

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Thank you for reading.

With Love,

Maryam_xo.💕

To be born into a girl-filled family is a blessing,soft laughter, shared secrets, and a strength that grows quietly but firmly. Yet there is a truth that lingers beneath that blessing, a truth that cannot be overemphasized: sometimes, you grow up carrying expectations meant for someone who was never there. You learn early how to be strong, how to be responsible, how to fill spaces that society assumes an elder brother would have filled. You work harder, stand taller, and push yourself further, not because you want to, but because you must. I was just a girl, learning to survive and to shine in my own way, when life did something unexpected. It gave me an elder brother—not by blood, but by fate.

I found my elder brother in a stranger. Or perhaps, he found me first.

His name is Nurudeen, and before he became my brother, he was simply someone passing through my life, unaware of the role he was about to play. He did not arrive with grand promises or loud declarations. He came quietly, steadily, the way safety often does—without drama, without force. And somehow, in his presence, the long-standing absence I had grown used to began to fade. He became my Nuru, my own elder brother, the one I never had but always needed.

There is something sacred about the way strangers turn into family. It is not written in bloodlines or surnames; it is written in actions, consistency, and care. Nurudeen did not have to take on the role of an elder brother, yet he did so effortlessly. He listened when I spoke, corrected me when I was wrong, and believed in me even when I doubted myself. In his words, I found guidance. In his silence, I found reassurance. In his presence, I found safety.

Academically, he was more than a helper; he was a guide. When my confidence wavered and my goals felt distant, Nurudeen stood firmly beside me, reminding me of my potential. He explained what I did not understand, pushed me to aim higher, and never let me settle for less than my best. He did not make learning feel like a burden; he made it feel like a shared journey. Every small achievement felt bigger because he celebrated it. Every failure felt lighter because he helped me learn from it. Through him, I learned that intelligence is not just about knowing answers, but about patience, discipline, and the courage to keep trying.

Morally, he was a compass. In a world that often blurs right and wrong, Nurudeen remained grounded. He taught me—sometimes through advice, other times through example—that character matters. He showed me the importance of integrity, humility, and kindness. When I was confused, when emotions clouded my judgment, he helped me see clearly. He reminded me that strength does not mean hardness, and wisdom does not require arrogance. Watching him live his values made me want to live mine more intentionally.

Emotionally, he was a safe place. There is a special kind of comfort in knowing that someone has your back, not because they are obligated to, but because they choose to. With Nurudeen, I felt protected in a way I had never experienced before. I could be vulnerable without fear of being judged. I could be uncertain without being made to feel weak. He offered reassurance when the world felt overwhelming and encouragement when I felt invisible. In his care, I learned that family is not always about where you come from, but about who stands with you when it matters most.

Step by step, he walked with me. In moments of decision, he guided. In moments of doubt, he steadied. In moments of joy, he shared my happiness as though it were his own. He filled the role of an elder brother so naturally that it sometimes startled me—how someone who once knew nothing about my life could understand me so deeply. Perhaps that is the magic of genuine connection: it does not need time to feel real; it only needs sincerity.

He speaks so well too.😭❤️

Nurudeen became proof that Allah sometimes answers unspoken prayers in unexpected ways. I did not ask for an elder brother, but my heart had longed for one. And when he came, he came not as an idea or a shadow, but as a real person—kind, firm, supportive, and present. Through him, I learned that love does not always come from where we expect it. Sometimes, it comes from where we least imagine, carrying exactly what we have been missing.

Now, as you stand at the threshold of a new chapter, graduating from university, my heart is full—full of pride, gratitude, and a quiet sadness. Congratulations on your convocation, **Nurudeen**. This achievement is a testament to your hard work, resilience, and dedication. Watching you reach this milestone reminds me that you ere never meant to remain in one place; you were always meant to grow, to rise, and to move forward.

Nuru during his matric.😭❤️ ( Yes I kept it)

I will miss you—your guidance, your presence, the comfort of knowing my elder brother is just a conversation away. But even in the distance, I am certain of one thing: you are going to do even better. Greater doors will open for you, and you will walk through them with the same grace and strength that have defined you all along. Wherever life takes you next, know that you carry with you a piece of my gratitude and my prayers.

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I found my elder brother in you. And for that, I will always be thankful. This sure isn't goodbye but it's congratulations for the success you've achieved. I'm always proud to call you my brother, anyday, anytime. ( Na marriage remain now oo)

Nuru na scholar jhoor.😭❤️

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I found what I was doing wrong, I found what they did that I didn't do. They were consistent, they had a peice sent out weekly or monthly, they showed up for themselves before waiting for others to show up, they made the noise for themselves before anybody made noise about them, they were patient, hopeful and held onto their dreams.

They had direction ( more like a drafted journey path) on what they wanted to achieve, but here I was, writing whenever I remembered I had a Substack account, I barely dropped any note, I read little or less, I only showed up for the validation. The validation that came from people saying “ you write so well” or “ oh this resonates so well with me”. I only wrote when I felt good, forgetting that you need not be okay to write, you just have to feel, see observe and write them down.

It's always a roller coaster of events but the lessons learnt from each event is that which defines one. So today I say loudly that I learnt, I learnt to show up for myself and my dreams first before expecting others to do the same, I learnt that directions helps one in achieving a better result, i learnt that patience is not easy and of all I learnt that I had to change something to achieve something.

So you see, I made a resolution ( I hope I take it seriously) to drop at least a note daily, drop a peice weekly ( hopefully it gets better) and whenever I won't be chanced to do so I'll let you know before hand. It won't be easy ( I can see it already) but hope has audacity and taking hope as an example I'd also use my audacity.

With heartfelt sincerity,

Maryam.🌸

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♦️Success isn't always about greatness. It's about consistency. Consistent hardwork gains success. Greatness will come

~ Dwayne Johnson

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📌Consistency isn't about being perfect everyday, it's about showing up even when it's hard, even when the results aren't instant. It's the quite promise you keep to yourself. Progress may feel slow, but every small step adds up. Stay committed, stay patient. The version of you you're becoming will thank you for not giving up. Keep going my love- your effort matters.

Ayodele⚘

I laid on my bed eagerly staring at the screen, it was judgement day and I was sure I had made it to paradise. Nervous than ever i squeezed my pillow even harder, the time of truth was far than over, the bright screen soon turned blurry as I read the content of the long awaited mail to myself “Dear Ayodele Adeleke, it is unfortunate that we have to let go of a splendid candidate like you based on the fact that you reside in a part of the world we do not consider” it felt like a heavy lump of matter was stuck in my throat, I searched for words but they failed me, I searched for tears but they were too shocked to even trickle down my face.

Spent the entire night re-analyzing, going over all my documents and certification again and again but nothing was wrong, the final look at the mail made my grown- ass cry, i was disqualified of a dream yet again cause i was birthed and lived in a certain nation.

picture by: mixetto on Unsplash

Nasirah🌹

After what seemed like eternity, it was my turn. Nervous yet hopeful, I walked briskly to the table. Today, I was to get my approved visa. My heart beat in quiet anticipation, this was the final step. I had done everything right. Earned the scholarship. Passed the interviews. Gathered all the documents. Fully funded, from tuition to accommodation. The only thing left was that stamp. But excitement was far from what I received. The consular officer barely looked at me. A few clicks on her keyboard, a glance at my file, and then the words fell like a hammer: “I’m sorry, your visa has been denied.”

My breath caught. “Again?” I whispered, barely able to hear myself. This was my third attempt this year. She gave the same rehearsed apology. Something about “insufficient ties to my home country.” I didn’t argue. I simply nodded, picked up my documents, and walked out. Outside, the sun mocked me with its warmth. The embassy gate closed behind me like a verdict. I sat on the stone bench, surrounded by strangers, and let the tears come freely this time. I didn’t care who watched. I’m just a girl. An orphan. I have no family, no house that belongs to me, no legacy passed down. But I have dreams. Dreams that reach beyond borders, beyond poverty, beyond every rejection that’s tried to shrink me.

I worked day and night, while others slept. Studied by candlelight when power failed. Walked to school for hours, because there was no transport money. And when the scholarship call came, I won against thousands. Not because I was lucky, but because I refused to give up. And yet… each time I was meant to fly, this country denied me. I stared at my reflection in the embassy window, eyes tired, shoulders heavy, I was tired, tired of trying.

Was it a crime to be birthed an orphan?

Was it a crime to be birthed a Nigerian?

picture by: Boogich on Unsplash

Uche🍁

Uche wakes before dawn to the sharp buzz of his dying phone battery. There’s no electricity again, so he heats his pressing iron on a charcoal pot, determined to look neat for another day of hustling. Outside, the city yawns awake danfos honking, hawkers shouting, and life moving faster than his hope. He runs after a bus, sweat dripping down his face, clutching his worn-out bag of dreams. Hours later, he’s still on the move, doing everything to survive, selling, assisting, learning, yet it never seems enough. When he gets home, he checks his phone: another rejection email. “Unfortunately, you do not meet our selection criteria.” His laughter echoes in the dark room, a mix of pain and disbelief. He did everything right went to school, stayed disciplined, never gave up. He looks through his window at the flickering city lights and whispers to himself, “How do you win in a country that never lets you play?”

picture by: Chuko Cribb on Unsplash

Gift🥀

Gift sits in a small cyber café, the whirring of the fan louder than her heartbeat. She clicks refresh another rejection email appears. “We regret to inform you…” She forces a smile, whispers, “It’s fine,” but her eyes betray her. Outside, she walks home past street vendors shouting over the noise, each one chasing a dream that looks more like survival. She clutches her degree tightly, proof of effort, now almost meaningless. At night, the hum of generators fills her one-room apartment. Her phone lights up with photos of friends abroad “New beginnings!” while her own inbox stays empty. She did everything right: studied hard, graduated, applied endlessly. Yet, opportunities slip through her fingers like water. Staring at the ceiling fan spinning slowly, she mutters, “I don’t even have a story.”

picture by Amrut Roul on Unsplash

📍 Being Nigerian means learning how to bend without breaking. Not because we want to but because we’re left with no other option. We’ve become masters at adjusting to things we didn’t ask for, facing changes we didn’t see coming, and making peace with circumstances that shouldn’t exist in the first place. Every day confronts us with a new twist: “a hike in fuel prices overnight”, another policy rolled out without warning, an economy that flips without logic, and systems that reward anything but merit. And through it all, we carry on silently, and often painfully.

We’ve been taught to scale down our dreams just to survive within broken frameworks. A graduate brimming with ambition finds themselves stuck in a job that barely justifies their education. Entrepreneurs gamble daily with fluctuating exchange rates and unreliable infrastructure. Those with the means find their way out, while those who remain take pride in resilience they never asked to wear. And somehow, amid all of this, our struggles are barely acknowledged because we’ve come to accept endurance as a way of life.

Opportunities slip through our fingers constantly, not from a lack of talent or effort, but because the system is rigged against fairness. The dreamer with a brilliant idea may never access stable electricity, let alone funding. The farmer loses an entire season to insecurity or unpredictable weather, with no compensation or backup plan in sight. We often find ourselves sprinting ahead of our own optimism chasing outcomes that vanish just when they begin to look real.

Yet, we don’t stop.

There’s nothing noble about this kind of resilience. It’s not the kind we should have to applaud. We don’t talk enough about the exhaustion that comes with constantly adjusting our expectations about how, over time, we’ve learned to protect ourselves by not hoping too loudly. We’ve normalized dysfunction so much that compromise has become instinct.

We compromise on everything, on healthcare, on education, on infrastructure, on peace of mind. We water down the kind of lives we dream of just to stay afloat. And while we’re often commended for our strength, no one talks about the burden of carrying that strength every single day.

Our story as Nigerians isn’t just one of endurance, it’s one of enforced adaptation. And while our ability to reinvent ourselves again and again speaks volumes about our inner strength, it also exposes the deep fractures in the systems meant to support us. We shouldn’t have to be this resilient. We shouldn’t have to keep reshaping ourselves to survive failure after failure in governance. We shouldn’t have to keep running just to stay where we are.

Perhaps it’s time we stopped romanticizing survival and started insisting on a country where thriving is not a privilege, but a right.

🌷I hope this letter meets you well and resonates. this is a reflection on how things are going, how we are affected by the day-to-day inconveniences we are made to adapt to as civilian of this great nation.

♦️if this letter gets to you then it is a sign that you should subscribe!!

Thank you for choosing to join the family!🤍

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2 long, excruciating years of non-stop genocide.

2 years of systematic starvation _ not just hunger, but the weaponization of food.

2 years of unrelenting suffering, of grief etched into the bones of a people who have done nothing but exist.

And now, I ask _ is this the world we planned to live in?

A world that has lost its very humanity…

That watches, praises, funds, and justifies genocide.

A world that doesn't just break the spirits of today, but burdens the minds and souls of unborn generations.

A world that places trauma in the heart of a 70-day-old baby_ a child whose only crime is being born under an occupation.

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This is no longer a war. It is an erasure.

This is not about sides. This is about survival.

It is October 7 again… and there’s still no end in sight.

No end to the screaming beneath the rubble.

No end to the haunting sound of drones in the sky, of bombs that fall on homes, hospitals, schools, and refugee camps.

No end to the torture,

The shelling,

The blockades,

The killings.We are watching in real time as a people are being wiped off the map_ not just in body, but in name, in memory, in voice.

And yet we scroll. We sigh. We say nothing.

Are we even humane at this point?

We watch silently as tyrants mete out insanity upon the weak, the voiceless, the innocent.

We watch the so-called great powers silence the oppressed with threats, sanctions, and propaganda.

We watch as those who stand up are beaten down, ridiculed, fired, or worse.

We watch as an entire population is driven to hunger, to thirst, to desperation — not by fate, but by man.

Do we not fear what awaits us?

Do we not see the seeds of apathy we’re sowing into the future?

Do we not fear the judgment of generations who will read about this and ask, “Where were you?”

What did you do while Gaza burned?

While babies died for lack of milk and women gave birth in tents with no medicine, no anesthesia?

While bodies were lined in rows and names were reduced to numbers?

And through it all, they smile brighter than ever

May God forgive us for our silence.

May He comfort the broken,

Heal the wounded,

Feed the hungry,

And grant eternal peace to the martyrs.

May He bring justice, swift and unrelenting to the oppressors.

Ya Allah…

Wrap Your mercy around the people of Gaza.

Replace their pain with peace, their fear with safety.

Honor the martyrs.

Heal the wounded.

And bring swift justice to the oppressors.

May we never stop saying it, living it, praying it:

Free Palestine.

Always.

Forever.

Ameen.

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Lately, the only thing I say when I get tired is “life’s a spoon.” But really, life “is”a spoon. Sometimes it’s filled to the brim with goodness, love, joy, and clarity. Sometimes, it’s just half full barely enough to keep going. And other times, it feels painfully empty, like there’s nothing left to scoop. But no matter what, it’s still a spoon, still capable of holding something. Still capable of giving something.

I’ve never really celebrated my birthday like most people do. It was always quiet, sometimes even forgettable. No elaborate parties, no loud cheers, no overwhelming attention. Just another day marked with subtle love from family and those immediately around me. I got used to it. Maybe I even preferred it. Because it felt safe, simple, expected.

But this year? This year caught me off guard.From the moment the clock struck midnight, it started. The messages rolled in. The calls came. The mentions and tags made their way to my phone like a wave. People I hadn’t even expected to remember,friends, acquaintances, even those I thought had moved on, reached out with genuine love. And I just sat there, overwhelmed in the best way.

Naso person dey quick growww😭😭

It wasn’t about the numbers. It was about the words. The warmth. The feeling that I was seen. Celebrated. Loved.

For someone who often tells themselves they aren’t “that special,” today proved otherwise. And it reminded me of something big: *love will always find you.* Even when you feel closed off. Even when you think no one’s looking. Even when you've convinced yourself that your quiet world is enough, love pushes through the silence.

That’s the thing about friendship, about connection, it builds over time and shows up when you least expect it. Today reminded me that you don’t always have to shout to be heard. You don’t always have to try so hard to matter. Sometimes, you just “are”.

Just like a back flower is always a flower

And maybe that’s the beauty of birthdays, it’s not the gifts or the cakes or the spotlight. It’s the realization that in your own little world, people still choose you.

So here’s my truth today:

"Life has been a spoon". Sometimes sweet, sometimes bitter. Sometimes overflowing, sometimes barely holding anything.

But I’ve got you all in my spoon, and I’m glad to have you. Thank you all for the wishes, prayers and goodwill message, they all hold a big place in my heart and I love you all soooo muchhhh

I turned legal today.

Oh, how grown I’m becoming 😭😭

But in all…

LIFE'S A SPOON

Once again, I'm at this point in my life. This time, the feeling is silent. A heavy cloud clutches my heart tighter than ever. It makes me bleed without a drop of blood, makes me cry without a single tear falling.

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And now I ask myself: why did I let this happen again? Maybe this is what love is not just the romantic kind, but the kind that grows in friendship. The love where you turn a stranger into family, and suddenly, the bond starts to break. No one is to blame, yet every effort to fix it seems to make it worse. I don’t even know what to say anymore. I’m tired. Tears flow, but they give no relief. The pain is there, yet there’s no one to pour it into.

I want to scream but to who? I want to cry but where do I go? I want to rest but where is the shoulder, the pillow? I’m just a girl. A girl who gave time, energy, care… and now feels empty. Nobody talks about this part, the part where you give your all and it still breaks. You invest so much, hoping it becomes something beautiful, but all it does is drain you.

Still, I release it. I let it out here, in these words. Because sometimes, silence is too loud. It presses on your mind, your chest, your soul. And the hardest part? There’s no one to really say it to. But it’s fine. I’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine.

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To anyone out there going through silent heartbreaks,friendship losses, emotional confusion, identity shifts, I pray it gets easier for you. These are the battles no one sees, but they shape us. They define who we are, how we love, how we rise again.

It’s a lot, how we carry pain, how we smile through it, how we try to stay soft while breaking. I wish I could fast-forward life. Or rewind it to when things were simple. I really wish. But for now, I breathe, I carry it, and I hope.

It’s a lot. But somehow, we’ll be okay.

You just give something a try, maybe out of boredom or curiosity and before you know it, the “fame” starts to hit. Slowly. Quietly. Then all at once.

I started as a dreamer.

I had no expectations, really. I just wanted to share my wild little fantasies with the world. I didn't know where it would lead. But then, I met people, people who saw more in me than I saw in myself. They opened my eyes, shifted my thoughts, and made me start to believe. I began to dream that my stories, my words, would travel further than I ever could. That maybe. just maybe. they’d become a part of my identity.

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From those small dreams, weaved quietly in my bedroom, something bigger was born. Now, it has grown into something important. A part of me I’ve grown to love deeply. A link between me and so many beautiful souls. Who would've thought that the girl who just wanted to “write for fun” would find in it the very thing that unlocks her life?

This feels like a new phase, a new page, a new lease on life. All I want now is balance between school and writing, between chasing dreams and staying grounded. I want to give myself a real chance at both and see where life leads me. And how beautiful it feels to have you all with me on this journey.

Not many people talk about “those ones” the ones who believed in us before we did, who celebrated every win, and softened the blow of every loss. I call them the OGs. The day ones. There wouldn’t be a “me” without them. And if you’re one of them, I pray life brings you ease and joy in the same measure you’ve given it to others.

Of course, life isn't always rosy. Some decisions might feel wrong at first. Results don’t always come right after effort. And sometimes, settling with what you have isn’t failure, it’s survival. Good things take time. Maybe days, maybe years. But trust me, they’ll find you. Karma never forgets what you’ve served.

Commitment has always been my weakness 😩. One moment I’m writing back-to-back with overflowing inspiration. The next, I disappear for weeks searching for that spark again. But I want to change that. Even if it’s just once a month, I want to give my writing space to breathe, it deserves that. It has a life of its own.

And honestly, one feeling I’m learning to let go of is the whole “shadow-ban” worry. Like, tell me why I post something and for a whole week, not a single like,but someone else posts and hits 15 likes in two hours? From an account even newer than mine 😪.

Still, nothing compares to the feeling of logging into Stack and seeing engagement, comments, love it makes me want to marry the app, fr. That kind of support? It makes your whole day. Not to mention the amount of notifications I get on new publications, it gives me butterflies in my tummy.

This was random, yes. But I hope it helped you the way it helped me.

In between thanks , , , and BEN for the lovely notes

It’s a cold night in June,

the last day of June, to be precise.

An odd but rainy Monday.

I didn’t plan to write today,

but I couldn’t stop thinking of you.

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It’s the end of the first half of 2025,

the so-called “year of breakthrough”.

Too soon to say, honestly.

But let’s take a recap of the last six months, shall we?

☆JANUARY☆

The year began with emptiness.

No structure, no direction.

I had no plan, just school moving in the background,

and me… floating.

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●FEBRUARY●

Hope started to peek through.

Little things began to make sense.

I felt something shift in me like maybe this year could surprise me after all.

♡MARCH♡

March was beautiful.

Undeniably the most colourful, joyful, freeing month of all.

It felt like laughter knew my name again.

◇APRIL◇

It was a good month too,

but exams had a way of stealing the light.

Still, I kept pushing.

I survived.

♧MAY♧

May felt like renewal.

A new chapter opening slowly.

A deeper breath, a fresh kind of hope.

I was still tired,but not the same tired.

□JUNE□

June has been heavy.

A month of holding myself up with tired hands.

Of breathing through the tightest moments.

There were days I wanted to quit everything,

to sleep, to disappear, to not feel so much.

I might’ve lost myself a little,

but somehow, I didn’t completely let go.

There’s still hope.

Quiet. Faint. But alive.

And maybe… that’s enough for now.

Because the truth is,

*being alive is the biggest gift.*

Even when it hurts.

Even when nothing feels right.

Even when everything’s falling apart,

we’re still here.

Still breathing.

Still able to feel, cry, hope, laugh… and yes, complain.

And if we’re alive enough to complain,

we’re alive enough to try again.

So tonight, I pray.

For you reading this.

For your tired mind, your aching heart, your silent battles.

I pray for peace that holds you when no one else does.

For joy that surprises you in the smallest ways.

For strength to keep going, even when no one sees.

And for gentler days ahead, ones filled with softness, growth, and becoming.

You made it through the first half.

That is no small thing.

You're still here.

And that means *everything*.

The silence.

The dying heart that no one knows,

no one talks about.

The heart that laughs in public

but lies flatlined in private.

The one that shows up,

dresses up,

and breaks quietly every single day.

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It’s the heart that’s tired of explaining,

because no one’s really listening.

The heart that’s stopped hoping for rescue,

because even hope feels heavy now.

Dead, but still smiling.

Still clinging to routine,

to appearance,

to moments that don’t last.

And yet…

even now,

this foolish, stubborn heart

whispers:

*“Maybe there’s more.”*

Oh stupid heart,

breathe in.

Take in some life.

It’s another chapter.

You’ve survived the last page.

You're still here.

And maybe, just maybe,

there’s more left in you

than even you believe.

So cry if you must

not because you’re weak,

but because even the strongest hearts need release.

You’ve carried silence like a second skin,

but silence doesn't have to be your story forever.

One day, the smile won’t just be survival.

One day, it’ll be real.

And this heart, this worn, weary, beautiful heart

will not just beat.

It will “belong”.

Not because someone saved it,

but because YOU did.

Dear Diary,

Today, I learned,yet again—that humanity still exists.

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You asked what I saw, didn’t you? Well, let’s have a quick recap.

It was a lovely afternoon. The sun was barely out, and the weather had that perfect, humid softness. I was walking when I noticed a man ahead autistic, by the way he moved quietly asking for help. He didn’t look haggard, but it was clear life had worn him down.

Another man stood before him,struggling was his appearance. At first, he shrugged the beggar off. Walked a few steps. But then, something pulled him back his heart, I guess.

He turned, reached into his pocket, and said,

*"This was meant to take me home… but I guess you need it more."*

I was touched, deeply touched.

I watched the autistic man walk away, holding onto that small gift.

Then I watched the giver… looking around, maybe for a ride, maybe wondering what he’d just done.

And there I was standing still, feeling guilty. Guilty that I couldn’t help. Guilty that of all days, today was the day I was broke.

We all walked away, but my heart stayed at the scene.I wished I could’ve helped both of them.

But more than that, I was moved moved by a kind act so rare, especially in this part of the world.

A place where survival grows harder by the day,

where kindness is buried under hustle,

where people barely make it—yet someone gave up their way home for a stranger.

I’ve seen things like this online, in short videos meant to go viral.

But today, I saw it with my own eyes. And it changed something in me.

Even though the country is hard,

Even though “insecurity” feels like our new national identity,

This man stepped out of his discomfort

To bring comfort

To someone he didn’t know.

A stranger.

A nobody to him

But a human being all the same.

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Today I learned that holding back isn’t always strength.

That hoarding security while others suffer isn’t safety.

That surviving alone isn’t really surviving.

*Selflessness.*

That’s the word.

I want to be ready to give—even at the cost of my own comfort.

(Not always, but when it truly matters.)

Even when I’m down to my last coin,

If I still have the heart to share it

That says more about me than anything I wear or post or say.

I learned that today.

I lived that lesson.

So you see, dear Diary

Humanity still exists.

And today was living proof.

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Waking up every day

to that same feeling

has been what I’ve held onto

what I’ve experienced

for as long as I can remember.

That feeling that damages you

before the world even gets a chance to.

That feeling that chews at your worth

before anyone else opens their mouth.

That feeling that silences you

even when your truth is burning in your chest.

That feeling that makes you question every step

even the ones you’ve already taken.

That feeling that convinces you

to shrink,

to disappear,

to become what others expect

nothing more.

That feeling that tells you

you’re too much and not enough

in the same breath.

That feeling that drags your reflection

into war with itself.

That feeling that makes you settle

for less,

for pain,

for crumbs

when you were never meant to.

Insecurity isn’t always loud.

Sometimes it whispers.

Sometimes it looks like overthinking.

Sometimes it sounds like silence

in a room full of people.

Sometimes it sits in the soul like a shadow

quiet, but heavy.

And the hardest part?

It’s yours...

but it never truly started with you.

But then comes clarity

not loud,

not sudden,

just... steady.

It comes like breath after drowning,

like light that doesn’t ask permission.

Clarity says:

*You are not the wound that touched you.*

You are not what they said

in their absence,

in their neglect,

in their silence.

You are the echo

of everything you’ve survived.

And healing?

It’s not clean.

It’s not neat.

It’s messy.

It’s falling apart—

and still showing up.

It’s choosing yourself

on the days

you don’t even feel worth choosing.

It’s holding the mirror and saying,

*I am still here.*

*I am still mine.*

Healing is not becoming someone new.

It’s remembering

who you were

before the world told you

to be small.

It’s the rebuild.

Quiet.

Sacred.

Yours.

And self-love?

It’s not always soft or easy.

Sometimes,

it’s standing in front of your own reflection

and refusing to look away.

It’s choosing to be kind to yourself

even when the voices in your head aren’t.

It’s setting boundaries,

even when it feels like

you’re pushing people away.

It’s learning to sit

with your own company

and not feel lonely.

It’s saying *no*

without guilt.

It’s saying *yes*

to things that nourish,

not just things that distract.

Self-love is the quiet courage

to unlearn everything

that taught you to hate yourself.

It’s walking away from what breaks you

even if it once felt like home.

It’s knowing

you are worthy

not because of what you give,

but because you exist.

It’s not perfection.

It’s presence.

And in that presence,

you begin to rebuild...

not just the surface,

but the soul.

And after all the breaking,

all the questioning,

all the heavy nights

comes peace.

Not the loud kind.

Not the movie-scene kind.

But the quiet, steady kind

that finds you

when you stop chasing it.

The kind that lives in your chest

when you finally say:

*I’m enough. Just like this.*

Share Maryam's world of words

Peace isn’t the absence of pain.

It’s the presence of wholeness.

It’s knowing

that what cracked you

didn’t kill you.

It’s realizing

you bent

but never broke

beyond repair.

And resilience?

It’s not the toughness they praise

when you hide your tears.

It’s the softness you protect,

the truth you reclaim.

It’s showing up

again and again

for yourself,

especially

when no one else does.

It’s carrying your scars

like stories,

not shame.

It’s blooming

in the places

you thought were buried.

So if no one told you lately,

You are not too much.

You are not too broken.

You are not invisible.

You are *becoming*.

And that,

is more than enough.

Smile would you ☺

Today I dared to do it, that which I thought I couldn't do, I stared eyes wide open at the sun, I didn't flinch maybe I blinked but this time I didn't look away, I stared at it till I felt it stare into my heart shining light on that spot i always kept in the dark. At that that point it clicked, I just did it, it wasn't impossible it was just me. I had limited myself to that belief and it sticked with me. Gathering up the courage was all it took to change the belief, it was still the same mind that held me in shackles that set me free, that peice of me that knew and controlled alot.

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Just like the sun, we tend to hold on to thoughts, belief that binds and hurt us. We tend to endure whatever to protect that same belief, going as far as fighting for it. We get hurt, adjust and do away with whatever it is that doesn't go in the way of our belief. When it comes to the way we do things, we don't just want to hear it, want no fingers pointed at it considering it perfect in all ramifications. We argue, fight, protest even drop people of different opinion out, we do all this just to proof our point.

When it comes to people we do worst, believing that they can't do without you like you can't do without them at least you thought, you go all out, give out a part of yourself, change yourself, your likes and dislikes but In the end it all doesn't help cause when you're not the one you're not and when they aren't the one they just aren't the one. Self-harm starts the moment you're hell bent on changing so much for someone, because even after it all they might just brush you off like nothing ever happened.

How nice does it sound to have a reciprocated feeling between you and that person you feel sees you in the best of way, how nice does it sound to be loved flawlessly but in this generation we are desperate, i said it desperate. Maybe I'm also desperate, but love doesn't damage it heals, love isn't meant to be searched for it finds one.

Love never harms, love might not be flawless but the feeling it comes with shouldn't tie anyone down, it's the freedom orphans feel they need the most, the freedom a child seek from its parent, its the availability of support even without being asked. Love is a lot but wrong or harmful, you might have loved a wrong person but the feeling were never wrong. Selflessness is kindred to Love and vice versa, there is no Love when one party is hurt and the other can't sense it even if it's just an hunch it'll be there, there is no Love where fingers are pointed at each other, rather there is love where they is absolute respect, acceptance and trust, there is love when flaws are turned to confidence.

Why do you then still text them continuously, why do you give your all out at once, why haven't you check deeply to see if you could put up with such treatment forever, why do you endure pain and insult just to be noticed. What is the need to bear such pain when there is someone out there that haven't just crossed your path that'll do anything and everything to still own you, someone that'll fight the world to protect. What is the need to put up with so much when you have a family that dots over you to go back to, siblings that frustrates you but you cannot let go of, parent that loves you yet disagree with you. What was the need to go through all that when you could just run back to Him, He spreads His Hands each time you fall to catch you and the moment you heal you go get hurt again.

Why don't you pause, replay the life you've lived so far and ask yourself whether you wanted to go on like that? Nobody does. So rise today and stand on your own, you can win that prize you've been eyeing it all just have to come from within, you could have that breakthrough you've been searching for you just have to believe, you could be the very best it all starts with the thought, you could do anything you want to do you just have to put your mind to it. Sounds easy to do but we are in it together aren't we? Together we take each step with care and love and one day we'll be what we always thought we would be.

Thanks for reading, Kindly share before going

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Slowly we are all drifting away, we are all forgetting the pain and the purpose. A fued of over 75 years with the highest genocidal rate, this war still continues. From October 7, 2023 till day it still prevail,the wails,screams,agony and death troll has became a cycle. Sleeping is no longer an option. At times I wonder if these people were even humane, watching a fellow man like yourself set off into the sky because of the shelling, raping the young and old to satisfy your ungodly desires, brutally assaulting them with uncultured dogs, they actions are simply out of this world.

We keep watching in silence, someone's afraid of the authorities, another doesn't just want to get involved, what do we then answer when we are asked as to what our contribution to fighting this was, what then do we say to our children when they read about it in the history book. Sensitive and truthful videos are all over the net yet these oppressors get away with it. Watching those children eating stale bread with joy made me tear up, watching that man drink muddy water just to survive made me realise how much of life I had taken for gratitude.

We all keep complaining of one or two things, we forget we are living a life some never got to experience, hearing that boy scream that his only dream was to drink ice cream, watching that girl pet her dad after the death of their other family members broke me, a seventeen year old boy being the only survivor of what uses to be a family of 115 is traumatising, watching that girl of just 3 years cry from her sleep after hearing sounds of aircraft flying over their half demolished house made me bleed. I could go on and on but it just doesn't end.

The press and paramedics have to be the bravest, saving and consoling others while mourning their own loss, trying their best and facing the worst of end. It got to a point where they saved strangers that were family, carried corpse that was their loved ones but still continuedto give out. Just to cover the truth of the situation, a press man lost his two sons and his arm but still didn't stop, he casted the news of his sons death with tears welled up in his eyes and heart. He probably had the same dream has other parents “watch his kids grow to be someone” and wallahi that was what happened just not in the way he had envisioned, he probably thought he would see his grandchildren but fate played its game on his family.

Now we have war-born children, children birthed during this war, children that are getting used to shelling sound and blood all over, children that are getting used to hunger. I watched a man vlog his family from when his house was attacked and in just a week he had lost his wife and a kid, he was now the only parent to his surviving daughter that lost an arm, I could do nothing but cry, watching family of over hundred members turn into one lone survivor is terrible.

No one talks about the trauma, the scar, the unhealing wound this leaves on the victim. I was talking to someone about this same incident and their response was its a religion war, such utter jargon with confidence. A short story of a Christian family that lost their lives in Gaza: “The Anton family has suffered a tragic loss in Gaza. Nahida Khalil Anton, 70, and her daughter Samar Kamal Anton, 49, were shot and killed by an Israeli sniper on December 16, 2023, while walking inside the grounds of the Holy Family Church. Nahida was the mother of the largest Catholic family in the Gaza Strip, with 7 children and over 20 grandchildren.” Maybe this would open up your mind too, this oppressors are Jews and doesn't support any other religion.

This getting to you means you're free and can use your gadgets, think about people your age that are either dead, sickening or walking aimlessly with no place to call home. Would you love a life that? This is just my personal rant about the whole situation and the fact the ones in power are trying so hard to cover this up. It eats me up each day I see the news and the death trolls increases, displaced children and family increases. It’s an eyesore and shouldn't be condoned but what can a girl like me do alone, that's why I thought of writing it down, maybe it'll reach the right audience with your restacks and shares, maybe it'll make that difference i want so badly, but in all I just had to voice it out and now it's your turn, help spread awareness by hitting that restack button so it reaches other unaware ones out there.

Thanks for reading don't forget to share

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High on books, reading was an exhausting thing to do when I wasn't reading for fun. I needed an excuse to leave but I couldn't give myself even if I did find one. I was still battling with the bulky math question in my front when it popped in, my most awaited notification.

A new SUBSCRIBER ✨, it felt magical relieving me off the stress I had, at that point I felt proud and fulfilled, I realised people out there found my peice worthy of their subscription. The subscription to me was more of a reassurance that I had done well, i could stay away from substack and still gain loyal subscribers.

Knowing your efforts reach out to someone in the large crowd of the world is enough to keep me pushing, to keep going on and on knowing in my heart someone somewhere was hoping on the fact that I'll write a new peice and give them a new overview of things. Life isn't always rosy so if I can change someone's bad day with what to me where mere thought, then why not.

Growing to understand the fact that not everyone likes what you do is fascinating but also learning that your mere thoughts help someone in making a better decision, or in rectifying the past mistakes clock's differently. It's a phenomenal feeling that I pray everyone that does well to share their thoughts in the most sincere way gets to feel.

To you 57 souls that inspire me to do more, to those 57 souls that adores my little words and thoughts, thank you for, always taking your time to read each peice, the comments, the likes and restack so far 😊. We've come along way but the journey ahead of us is longer.

And you still haven't shared my post to that your friend that likes reading o🌝, abeg share this one now, abeg, please, biko,lahor...thats all the way I know how to beg na

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To @saedghasme3322@gmail.com welcome to the family and I hope you enjoy your stay ❤.

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I had to fall and know my place again, this time the people I gave it all up for weren't there,they were long gone leaving me all in the shackles I brought upon myself. Having to start back on your own wasn't easy, retracing and searching for that old self you loved and lived for wasn't something I could have done alone but they came through for me.

You asked yourself who were the THEY? They were those souls HE sent to me to heal me, THEY were my family that stood by me, THEY were those elders that took out of their time for me, THEY were all the positivity that surrounded me even when I was nervous but in all THEY were all HIS RAHMAH (mercy) showered on me.

We spend a lot of time trying to fit in and expecting the other person to give the same as that which we gave out, reality slaps in and we all take it differently, I might have healed along the line but the scar would always remain. The effortless and intentionality we put in should not be expected to be reciprocated cause even HE gave us everything with believing as a choice, its therefore the other person's choice whether or not they reciprocate it.

Stand up today and leave those relationships that your real self won't accept, be that person your inner self would be proud of no matter what, do that and see how your life take a new turn

Abeg share this one na….be intentional bout my write ups na🙏

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