Hello my babiessss. As usual, I'm here to rant.

This rant is about a son or Adam, or rather, sons of Adam. Recently, I've taken a liking this trend; “what do married people talk about”, “what do people in relationships talk about”. I'd spend the evening reading the conversations of married men and women and I won't lie, it's made me dwell more in my loneliness and realize how much hunger for love I've got.

I used to be ashamed to admit that I yearn to be loved by a son of Adam, and loved properly too. For someone that's got so much love to give, I keep pouring into the wrong people and then I unfortunately never learn because no matter how hurt I get, I sadly still have so much love to give.

Just because I want to love and be loved doesn't mean that I'm desperate. I know that my yearning can be mistaken for desperation, hence it makes me make a lot of silly mistakes when it comes to matters of the heart.

I met someone recently and I was overjoyed, probably because I was lovebombed. I didn't notice it was lovebombing till it was too late and I ended up liking him more than he did me.

Firstly, I do believe that you're never too busy for someone you claim to care about or love, you make them a priority, part of your daily schedule.

That wasn't the case for this said person.

He'd take a million and one years to reply me (after the lovebombing phase) and I'd try my best to understand that he's busy but still, it never made sense to me. I'm also busy, it's not like I'm jobless but then I make time. Is it so hard or bad to make time? I don't get it.

I complained about it in the most logical, understanding and respectable way possible. He apologized and backed his actions up with being busy and truly, I gave him grace. Again.

Then it happended again, I was left unreplied to for lots of hours. This time around I was more vexed than I was sad.

I'm used to living a boring life. I'm used to having no one to talk to and just doom-scrolling, then you came into my life on your own free will, lovebombed me, and then disappeared.

I subconsciously built my daily schedule around you, you became the reason why texting was fun, I started expecting your texts, waiting to see your name pop in my notification bar, expecting you to be the last person I talk to before going to bed. It's not fair.

I'm a hopeless romantic. I love love to the point of self sabotage, that's the reason why lovebombing works with me so easily and it's sad.

It's been five days now and nothing. I didn't double text and he didn't reply my last text either.

I just want to be loved and be loved right by a son a Adam. Why is that so hard to achieve?

I hate how much of an impact this man has made in my life in such a short period of time. How hung up on him I am, like….kilodeeee? 😭

I want to love and be loved. I want someone who I can pour my love into and be vulnerable about it and not feel stupid for loving to an extend of possible stupidity. Someone who'd show me that kind of love and more. Shey it's too much to ask ni? 😔

Now I'm stuck, mending my broken heart while he's probably having the time of his life right now.

Ewo, that’s enough ranting.

Odaro my babiessss (it's 10:57pm so…..).

I love you guys and you have no choice than to show me that same loveeeee because I lack a lot of it right now. 😔

I was having a conversation with my bestfriend today and I was telling her how I miss a friend of mine, Victor. Victor and I haven't spoken since December last year, we had a little misunderstanding and I couldn't take it anymore. We didn't have a “fall out” because of that misunderstanding, we had a fall out because I was tired of tolerating a lot of things and that misunderstanding just made me lose it so I gave up trying.

She asked about him and I told her I don't even know what's up with the dude.

She asked a question that caused us to have a major and serious conversation that last almost 30 minutes, and this is quite interesting because we haven't had conversations like this in a minute.

She asked “mention one person you had a fall out with that you think it's your fault”, I paused for awhile.

I then told her “it's never my fault”. Before you say anything, I know I can't be perfect. I know that obviously I'm not always the saint in everyone's story, the people I must've had a fall out or rather, people I'm not friends with anymore might see me as the villan and truly, that's fine. But regardless I'm going to say my own side of the story.

She said that I tend to not tolerate people a lot, she said that I don't give people second chances, she said that I cut people off quite easily, she said that I am very good at erasing people from my memory, she said I have pretty high expectations (whether romantically or platonically), she said I don't give a chance to even think about someone's actions and forgive them. She said a lot of things actually.

While she was mentioning all those things, I had a sting of “pride”. Lmao. Let me explain.

For the record, she's not wrong.

Let me tell you a little (extremely little) about me.

When I love people, I love them like my life depends on it. Especially when it's platonic. I'd move mountains for you. I'll try my best to make you feel extremely comfortable in my life, I always ignore your “red flags” as a person because I always feel my love for you will be just enough to secure our friendship. Now, this mentality and character has caused me to be deeply hurt and taken for granted many times than I can count.

My mom is just like that, so I like to think I got that from her. I've never seen one person whom my mom was good to that actually paid her with the same amount of good she showed them. Still, she'd always say that she won't change her nature just because someone choose to be inconsiderate.

I used to say that too. “I'll not change who I am just because you choose to not have sense”, until I saw multiple sheges in my encounter with humans. Lmao.

I decided to give her a little lecture about why I choose to change even though it was extremely hard for me.

Why do I always have to be the bigger person? Why do I have to always tolerate you? Why do I have to take you as you are? Why do I have to keep quiet when your actions affects me negatively? Why do I have to always be the patient one? Just because I feel every emotion and process them respectively, I'm suddenly too emotional, too sensitive, too conclusive, too…..too everything at this point.

People like it when you act fool for them a lot. Ignore whatever it is they do to you, because after all, “it's not that deep”.

She said that I need to take people as they are. Lmao.

I told her, I'd never lower my standards for anyone, anymore. My standards were so low to the point that I couldn't recognize who I saw in the mirror.

Truly, there are some friendships and relationships that are worth fighting for, worth letting your guard down for, worth giving a second chance. But oh well, I'm not ready to risk anything just to find our which friendship is worth it.

My standards are high because I've lived the life of having low standards, having to always consider without being considered because “that's just how I am”. When you have high standard and certain boundaries placed, people will respect you extremely. You'd not have to second guess your relationship with someone or your place in their lives. You'd see the efforts they make to grow the relationship you guys have and you'd have the chance to do the same.

I have a pretty small circle and I'm so comfortable with that.

I don't give people second chances but if I do, I consider the friendship worth fighting for but that's indeed your last chance.

I don't give people the opportunity to play with me anymore—emotionally and mentally.

When it comes to getting rid of people or cutting people off easily? I'm there like mad.

It takes me less than a second to delete every trace of you from my phone and proceed to do the same to my brain and my thoughts.

Do I miss these people sometimes? Definitely. They were a part of my “growth” phase.

Someone on this orange app asked if it was possible to like someone but not love them anymore and then love someone but not like them anymore, that made me think. It's more than possible.

Some of these people, I wish really well. Please go out there and make a name for yourselves, just not with me by your side because my emotions and how you treat me matters to me a lot now.

I remember when I used to ask myself; when should I stop caring? When should I put more effort? When should I show up? Even if I sense I'm not wanted, should I still hang around? Should I fight for the friendship or should I let it go? Will I survive without them in my life? Do they miss me and care for me as much as I do them?

I had a friendship breakup this semester with the girl I practically did my whole last semester with, this made me sit with myself and ask what exactly is my problem. Do I ooze off please-use-me-and-dump-me energy? For context, this girl just cut me off and started hanging out with someone else. It hurt but for just a few hours. Yes, I remember exactly the time it stopped hurting and how long it did hurt so I can say, a few hours.

My sister would always tell me to make friends and not stick to just one person because it rarely ever ends well. Did I listen? No. Do I have attachment issues? Unfortunately. Am I working on it though? Yes. Hence, I cut people off easily.

Before I decide to end my friendship with someone, I've looked at both sides, trust me. I don't hesitate to apologize when called out or if I feel I've hurt you. Right now, if you should ask the girl who cut me off this semester what I did to her, I can bet my life that she'd have nothing to say. I just seem too easy to use and dump in friendships, I also—unfortunately—got that from my mom.

And, I'm going to give you, my dearest reader, an unsolicited advice; stop second guessing yourself in people's lives. Don't get to that stage. The moment you feel in your gut that you're not being considered and you probably start asking chatgpt for advice, they're not your friends. Trust me. Don't be afraid to get out of friendships and get into new ones, trust me there are good people out there. Just let yourself be. Having a small circle is better than being taken for granted.

This is becoming longer than planned so I'm just going to stop writing now.

That's today's rant guys.

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I just finished writing this around 12:35am so, goodnight and good morning. 🫂

I haven't written anything passionately in a minute thanks to school but now, the institution decided to go on strike so shall we? 🙂‍↔️

1. Swallow and egusi.

Personally, I don't have a major problem with swallow, even though I don't fancy it much. I've eaten different types of swallow (except fufu, akpu and tuwo shinkafa) to understand the way swallow is made and how it ought to taste and the type of soup that goes with any of these swallows.

Now explain to me why—of all the soups that exist—you choose to eat or take swallow with egusi soup. I'd die on the hill that egusi soup is overrated, whether eaten with pounded yam or not (pounded yam is too much of a legend to be classified as just swallow by the way).

Swallow and egusi soup tastes like punishment to your taste buds and your throat. There's barely any rhythm to motivate you to swallow or enjoy the taste first before swallowing. Whenever I find out that's the lunch for the day, I suddenly get all the irks necessary to almost puck.

It's a terrible combination so I don't care about what anyone says, it's a terrible food combination and shouldn't be consumed. 😗

2. Roasted corn.

This isn't really a “food” but then people eat it so I'm going to talk about it.

It's one thing to eat cooked corn—that's actually sweet an way more understable—it’s another to eat a roasted corn. So you're trying to tell me that you'd rather wait, watch the corn being “burnt” all round and then eat it regardless of it being strong, black and burnt? That's punishment to your teeth and it's not even tasty.

You'd see some people actually queuing, even under the rain to get it.

My dad has an obsession with roasted corn and anytime he sends me to get him one, there's this sting of irritation that clouds my mind and face. I'm not just vexed about the fact that you'd want to eat that hard, burnt, tasteless thing, I'm vexed at the thought of going to queue, trying to figure out which is today old and worth buying. It's so much struggle for very little pleasure.

3. Groundnut and akamu (pap).

This is my mom's all time favourite. In the conversation I said I had with her, she was talking about how she hasn't had it in awhile. She recently underwent a surgery and got her tooth removed, for this reason, she hasn't had that in awhile.

It got me thinking, why? She forced me a few months back to try it. I tried akamu and groundnut and boy did I hate myself. It didn't feel right.

Groundnut has absolutely no business in akamu or pap (whichever you address it as). It's like saying you'd take ogbono and pineapple, that doesn't sound right abi? Exactly.

One is extremely liquid, slippery, smooth and silky, you want to add something solid to this? As someone who likes to shred her akara into her akamu, I totally know and understand what I'm talking about.

So, groundnut and akamu is a definite no no.

4. Salad or coleslaw and bread.

Now, I won't talk much on this because it's common knowledge. We all should be irked out by this.

Mayonnaise and bread? Totally fine, I don't have a problem with it. Butttttt, what do you mean by you like coleslaw and breadddddd?!

Are you a criminal? Why are you doing that to yourself and me that just found out about such information?

Bread and salad or coleslaw should not be marrying each other in your mouth.

You'd use the bread and scoop the salad into your mouth, who hurt you?! 😭 I've seen a lot of disturbing food combinations but this one? I'd never get it. I visibly cringe to the max. I'd just stop talking now, before I recall certain scene that I shouldn't be recalling.

5. Moi-moi and stew.

What do you mean you enjoy this combination? 😔

My dad would deliberately eat this comfortably and wouldn't frown at it.

I'm yet to recover from onion leaves inside moi-moi and then thisssss 😭.

Is the moi-moi rice? Is it bread? You can eat literally anything with stew but not moi-moi. Please.

Even if your taste buds won't tell you because you've numbed the shit out of them, I'd tell you. It's a terrible food combination.

So you'd cut a bit of the moi-moi, baptize it with stew and then eat it? The taste is different and quite obviously, they do not belong together. It's not yam and oil for God's sake 😭.

Use akamu or garri, hell…use bread and I won't have a problem but pleaseeeeee, if there's any liquid that isn't water you must consume while eating moi-moi, it should be garri or pap. Thank you.

And that guys, are the five foods that give me the irk. Telling me you consume one of these would just be adding to my mental pain.

I suffer in the hands of my parents already. Those people have the weirdest most annoying food combos you can ever think of and it bothers me a lot, genuinely.

Thank you for reading, my dearest baby. 🙂‍↔️

Welcome to my usual rant.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately and what better way to feel better than to write about it? Only, this time I'm doing it on my substack and not my notepad.

Jesus and I have had a very complicated (I dare say toxic—on my part) relationship. I grew up knowing Christianity and Catholicism as my religion.

In catechism, we were taught and made to understand that God made us and he made us for four reason—to know him, love him, serve him and be with him together in the next. Like every other child, I didn't actually have a relationship with Christ at that age, I just go to church because my parents took us to church, I attended catechism because it was the tradition and process to become a full Catholic.

I saw God as this really might being that dare not be questioned by anyone or anything. I'd say at that time, the only emotion I felt towards God was fear, nothing else.

This newsletter or rant (whatever you want to call it) is taking longer than expected to write. My brain is blank, I've been writing this since the 28th of July, it's the 3rd of August and I'm not half way through putting my thoughts and feelings into writing.

I'll try though, because there's a lot that's going on in my head that I want to write but I'm lost for words at the moment.

I didn't value or prioritize my relationship with Jesus because I didn't think there was such a thing. I just thought we're meant to worship God and in return, he'd grant out heart desires. That would've been better right? Lmao.

In my teenage ages—and sometimes now—I struggled with addiction. Addiction to what you might ask, addiction to pornography and masturbation but this isn't something I'd want to talk about right now.

In my late teens, I finally realized that God isn't as bad or as “scary” as I thought. But here's the problem, with my sins and my addiction, how do I have a relationship with Christ?

I'd have friends, or people generally, say that he doesn't care about your sins or the number of times you commit them, he's more interested in having a relationship with you amidst your short comings, your sins, even if you constantly go back to this sin because it pleases your flesh. But this statement—despite knowing it's true—didn’t sit well with me.

Would that be fair to Jesus? Commiting the same sin over and over again, that is, breaking his heart over and over again and still coming back to him like nothing happened? It's cheating if you ask me.

In 2024, during holy week, I went for confession and I promised God and myself that I'd never watch porn or masturbate because really, those were the only sins that really stood out for me.

And I did stop. I read scripture more, I prayed more, I tried to understand God more, I had an amazing relationship with Jesus. I was living the dream life of every Christian but the year 2025 came and everything changed.

I always asked God something, why make me have all these sexual desires if I'm not allowed to satisfy them outside of marriage? Why make me think all these thoughts if it's labelled lust. And yes, I know you'd say self control is a thing, but it's not as easy as you think it is.

I felt disgusted with myself. Talking to Jesus about my sexual desires was never something I thought about. People actually do that? Talk to God about how they want to get pinned down and fucked so good, they forget their names? You're supposed to be comfortable telling God all these desires? That's too much for my mind to grasp.

I was still dealing with all these things when another question came to mind, why does it feel like you're alone when life hits you with challenges? Why is Jesus always silent? Why does he let life kick your ass so bad? Why does he let you question your love and trust in him? It feels like he's rage baiting you or something, I don't know.

With all of these in mind, how do I maintain a good relationship with Jesus? How do I love or trust him despite everything that I've gone through and still going through? How do I still look at him after every sexual sin?

Sometimes, I believe I don't have the right to be mad at him for leaving me to drowun in my problems and sorrows because I sin against him, badly.

And then, I get asked sometimes, “how's your relationship with Jesus?” Well, how am I supposed to know when it's either I'm fighting sexual urges and desires or I'm battling life kicking my ass?

“Tell Jesus about your sexual desires”, trust me if it was that easy, I'd have started that long ago.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I love Jesus and I want to work on my relationship with him but he's not making it easy for me. I thought his yoke is supposed to be easy and light?

And again, what if I'm not willing to give up those sexual desires? Or if the temptations are too strong for me to overcome or handle?

In conclusion, I'd give anything to have a relationship with Jesus, anything to not measure my love and trust in him based on how much he comes through for me.

Welcome to my random rant (maybe that's what I'll be calling this now). Let's talk.

I've known Donald for 8 years now. Today, 25th of July makes my first kiss 8 years old, it marks the beginning of my first relationship (yes, yes I started dating at a young age 😭). Donald was my first boyfriend. Yes I know what you might be thinking, I was probably too little so that shouldn't even be recognized or referred to as a relationship but like I said in my last newsletter—I’m a hopeless romantic so I tend to value and remember “romantic” events in my life, regardless of whatever age I must've been when it happened.

I'm going to give you a story of how long my relationship with Donald lasted and why we broke up. Oh and before I forget, Donald and I are currently friends. We go to the same university and he's really been helpful since my stay in school. Now let me carry on with the gist.

Donald was this very good-looking guy and he very much still is one, oh my God. He's tall and has the deepest voice I've heard and he's got this very seductive accent (don't ask me how he got it because even I don't know), he's got broad shoulders and very clear skin with really full, dark, extremely soft and curly hair. The only “off” thing on this face that still finds a way to look attractive are his lips. His lips are pretty small and reallyyyyyy pink. Mind y'all, all these features have doubled over the years so you can imagine how he looks now. Did I mention that he's light skinned and I've got a thing for light skinned guys? I probably didn't.

I still don't know how and why he found me attractive at that age, hence I was extremely insecure, didn't love myself and I wasn't confident but oh well. Let me not bore you with how we met and the times when we were talking, I'll just go straight to the first time I met him.

Donald's school is owned by the Catholic church that I go to and the day we met, he was coming for summer lesson in school so he used that as an opportunity to see me.

I left my house and told them that I was going to see my best friend, this was partially not a lie because I was going to see my bestfriend, it was in her house Donald and I had planned to meet so technically I didn't lie, right?

Donald and I met at the back gate of the church, he crossed the road and met me, we shook hands and started walking to my friend's place which wasn't exactly far from the church. Mind y'all, Donald was a rich kid. Trekking wasn't his thing, he was always putting on extremely white socks with quality palm slippers. Getting there felt so far away because I was walking with him, I didn't know how to walk, act, breathe or even talk. He tried his best to talk about every and anything that'd make me talk and loosen up, and out of nowhere, he stretched forth his hand indicating that I should place mine there, meaning he wanted to hold hands with me. Boy was I uncomfortably shy. 😭

We got to my friend's place and we had to sit outside because her uncle and his girlfriend were still at home, they were about to leave though.

My friend abandoned me outside with this sexy son of Adam that she knows I'm shy around 😭 I started teasing him that his cheeks are big and before I knew it, my lips were locked with someone else's outside, in someone's compound, where anyone could see us.

His lips was a mixture of sour and sweet. It was extremely cold and super soft. He didn't reach for my tongue or intend to fill my mouth with his tongue either, it was just a “deep” kiss that lasted for less than a minute.

When we broke the kiss, I couldn't focus. I couldn't breathe, I didn't know where to look or what to say. That was the day we started dating. We broke up on the 24th of November. I broke up with him actually, because if a misunderstanding but that's a matter if the past. Would I say I regret breaking up with him? Maybe, maybe not….who knows.

We did reconcile in 2020 and we were just friends. He was even in a relationship at that time, oh if my jealousy could kill, they both would've been dead by now. Now that I think about it, I'd say I still “loved” or “liked” him then because of his looks, he was FINE so don't blame me.

He got into uni and I coincidentally got into the same uni this year.

Now it's 2026. Donald is all grown and so am I. He doesn't wear white socks anymore, now he wears black socks, lmao.

I found out that he broke up with his girlfriend of six years last year (2025) and truth be told, I was happy. Wait, it's not because I still loved him (cut me some slack), it's because this girl was a huge manipulator and he suffered in that relationship so I was glad he was out of it.

I remember when I first saw him after over three years, I went out to bring him to my house because he doesn't know it. When I sighted him a few feet away, I couldn't move my legs. This boy, turned man looked like an angel, he was straight out of a fantasy novel.

He was wearing a white shirt, a black jean and black durag. He said “took you long enough” and I could feel the butterflies in my belly do a little dance.

From then, Donald would come regularly to see me. He'd buy food when coming, sometimes he'd send me money to cook for us. If I'm in school, he'd call and ask where I am, I'd see him appear with small chops and a drink. My coursemates that I'm acquainted with would always be like “your man is here” or “your man is fine”, some would call him my brother because apparently we look alike. I've not actually told them we're just friends, I just let them call or address him however they want.

Now, why do I think I still love him….Donald is always there. That's it.

I remember when I had a breakdown because of my daddy issues. I just needed to talk to someone and so I called him. It didn't take him 20 minutes to get to me.

He listened to me. He let me cry. He just….. listened to me.

I was comfortable enough to be vulnerable with him, he never for once complained that I was disturbing him. He gave me a whole lecture and I genuinely felt better and at ease.

After every meeting, he'd always give me this warm hug and my nostrils are always opportuned to inhale the beautiful scent he's got. Omo ehhhh.

And so my stupid brain couldn't stop thinking about him—his lips, his voice, his eyes, his arms, the hairs on his arm, his long and clean fingers, his hair, the way his arms actually go round my waist despite how big I am whenever he hugs me.

I'm finished.

And yes, as a dare devil that I am, I told him that I've started having feelings for him again (call me dumb but oh well 😭). He said he values our friendship and wouldn't want to ruin that. He said he doesn't want to hurt me and he's not good for me.

I can't tell if I was angry, sad or hurt. Should I value our friendship more than the possibility of us being a thing? I don't know.

Now that I've taken the time to write this out, I also took the time to examine my heart and my mind. Do I actually love this guy or I'm just in love with how he treats me? I don't know.

Because of how uncertain I am, I'm asking you my dear reader, do you think I'm still in love with my ex?

Since it's been so long I was last a son of Adam's girlfriend, there's just been a lot of things I've badly wanted to do with and for my man and so I made a list. You guys will be reading that list and who knows, you might want to do that with and for your man too.

Let's get started. 🙂‍↔️

1. Complimenting my man after his hair cut.

I did post about this awhile back but it's definitely first on my list.

Imagine this; your man tells you he's going to get a hair cut, you decide to tag along because you want to be there during the process of beautifying him (because men's beauty is mostly from their hair 🤷🏾‍♀️), you keep staring at him while the barber does his thing. You can't help but smile because not only is your man looking sexy and hot, he's actually entering your eye all over again. When he's done and the barber is just adding finishing touches, you start taking unaware pictures of your man while he's still in the chair. He gets up, dusts himself and you guys start leaving. He's confused as to why you're smiling sheepishly at him but he has no idea how incredibly attractive and clean he's looking right now.

You start telling him; from his hair line, to how dark and shiny his hair is, to the style he must've gone with, how well his beards were trimmed and carved, how seductively handsome he's looking and you’re doing this all while smiling, maintaining eye contact and touching his hair.

Then you start asking about the products used on his hair and you'd see him trying to hide his excitement while telling you about the products and even the style he got done.

Omo, my man will enjoy sha.

Doing this will not only make him happy, it would definitely make my heart do a little choreography too. It's a win win.

Seeing your partner happy or genuinely giggly because of what you're saying or doing is just wholesome if you ask me.

So I indeed do look forward to doing this with him. Going with him to get his hair cut while raining compliments on him. I want to do that.

2. Praying for and with my man.

Call me too churchy but I definitely want to do this more than I'd want to taste his sexy lips.

I'm someone who prays about anything I'm confused about, friendships, what to eat, relationships, when I'm in the exam hall, when I'm happy, scared….I just pray about the inconveniences in my life and people that are important to me so definitely my man will be on the list of people I pray for.

I want to table your matter to God, I want to pray for you when you just wake up and are yet to begin your day, I want to pray for you when you're distressed and pained about something, I want to pray with you before we eat.

I want to be able to pray for you randomly without feeling like you're judging me or tired of that side of me. And I'm hoping he'd be able to do the same for me. I'm not just in a relationship for fun, I'm with you because I genuinely do see myself with you for a long time.

So yes, I'd love to pray with and for my man.

3. Spending on my man.

This, I find very exciting. When you love someone, spending your money on them is one way of showing it. It mustn't be something extravagant or big, the little things too count.

I want to take him on dates, pay for his hair cut, buy him clothes, oh Chim. 😭

I want to call him on a random Saturday, tell him to get dressed because I'm taking him out, he'd obviously look his best. We'd go to a really nice restaurant and then to the park, then to the art gallery in Lugbe (I've created a whole scenario in my head 😭). Then he'd try to pay for….maybe drinks and I'd be like “oh no baby, I've got it”, that's going to make me so happy. Truly.

4. Picking his outfit for the day.

My boyfriend is going to be like my baby and I'd definitely want to dress him up, once or twice a week.

I want him to value my opinion about his outfits, enough to let me pick them for him. How you dress especially as a man is very important and I want him to look presentable. This isn't me saying he probably can't dress himself up or pick his outfits, I'm just saying, the way you'd dress up a baby for the day—being in charge of everything including shoes—is exactly how I want to dress my man up. For dates, interviews, work.

Once or twice a week (especially Sundays) is all I ask for.

5. Going for a wedding with my man.

This should be at the top of my list but oh well.

I'm a homebody and I don't even know people or go for social gatherings, this has caused me to really look forward to going for one social gathering—a wedding in particular—with my man.

We'd go together, sit side by side, watch the couples exchange vows. Oh chimmmmm. 😭

We'd then proceed to the reception, again we'd sit together. We'd gossip about the food, the couple, the people. We'd take pictures together and tease each other about us getting married one day. People would mistake us for a newly married couple and we'd jokingly tell them they're wrong.

I'd take the time to scan my man with my eyes, marveled at how “sharp” and extremely fine he's looking.

We'd dance together, before we leave, my feet would hurt from wearing heels all day (mind y'all, I done wear heels or own a single one 😂😭) then while I'm sitting, he'd go down to help me get my shoes off, and while he's doing that I'll take unaware pictures of him—pinterest worthy pictures. Then he'd give me slippers to wear while holding my shoes in one hand.

Omo, I've got so much I want to do with and for my man 😭 imagination want to wound me.

The list goes on but I'll mention these for now.

Tell me which you'd want to do with your man. 🙂‍↔️

Hello, and welcome to my rather random than daily rant.

By the title, I know what you might be thinking; I probably don't know what I'm talking about. Just hear me out first.

I have this friend who is of the opinion that it's wrong and not necessary to spend on your significant other whilest you guys are dating, in his words “I won't spend a farthing on a woman that's not my wife”.

I asked him, if you don't spend on me while we're dating, what makes you think I'd hope and believe you'd spend on me while we're married?

Society and social media have caused for us to have unrealistic views regarding relationships, friendships, literally anything that has to do with commitment.

I've tried having a logical conversation with him regarding this view of his but it was like pouring water on stone, it won't enter.

Let's approach this from a very senseable and fair perspective, relationships (especially romantic ones) need all the commitment necessary and yes, including financial commitment. It makes no sense for just one person to give, give and keep giving all the time, same way it makes absolutely no sense to conclude that it's wrong to even give in the first place.

Women are naturally expensive and require financial care (disagree with this, I don't care). From the basic needs like pads, period essentials, pants and bras. All these are basic essentials that are quite expensive. So yes, women are naturally expensive.

In my opinion, there's nothing wrong in a man spending on his woman. His excuse was, women are too entitled, he hates the entitlement and because of that reason, he won't be spending a “farthing” on any girl that he isn't married to.

It is expected that you spend on your woman. Yes, it is. And if a man really likes or loves his girl, spending on her is a way he'd genuinely want to show it. Buy her gifts, flowers, food, take her on dates. All that good and romantic stuff.

This same guy says he can't be in a relationship without coitus. So my questions is, if she can't be “entitled” to your money, what makes you think you can be entitled to her body?

And I know some of you may say it's a personal preference but is it really? You can do without sex in a relationship. Is coitus the only reason you'd want to be involved with someone?

And this isn't me saying that a woman shouldn't spend on her man, by all mean—do.

All I'm saying is, if you can't spend on a woman unless she's your wife, go for women who wouldn't mind arching their backs for you without a “farthing” being spent.

If a woman truly loves you, she'd want to spend on you too, trust me.

I also know that some women make very unrealistic and unnecessary demands when it comes to finances in relationships but that doesn't still justify the mentality of seeing spending on your woman as wrong. Maybe it's just me sha.

“I’m not your father”, well I'm also not a prostitute but look at where we are now.

Maybe I'm just beating around the bush and I'm actually not hitting the nail on the head, maybe I sound entitled, maybe anything really, but I still think it's mandatory to spend on your significant other.

This particular conversation kept playing in my head and I really want to know if I'm wrong or I'm—in his words—entitled.

I couldn't linguistically execute my exact point, I wish you all had access to my mind so you can read my thoughts and how well I articulate my opinions in my mind but oh well, I had to get this off my chest.

So read this and tell me what you think.

Should you spend on your significant other?

1. Watermelon.

I don't care what anyone says, nobody actually prefers and genuinely likes watermelon. You can't convince me otherwise.

So you're trying to tell me that you like the taste of sugar generously diluted with more than enough water, accompanied with numerous seeds? Nope, I won't believe.

I don't know what is to like about that fruit. It's just big for nothing. Fills your mouth with unnecessary amount of water. If I wanted to drink water, I sure as hell know my way to the fridge or any source of water. You can't call yourself a fruit but then all you can offer is water and plentyyyyy seeds. That's just weird and and it's giving proud.

So no, I don't believe anyone likes watermelon. Genuinely.

2. Avocados.

Do I even need to write anything on this one? I would NEVER believe or understand people that eat this thing. I feel like people that do, have been brainwashed to believe it's tasty. Because for me, if you're bitter or tasteless, I don't care what your benefits are, I am not consuming you.

Let's even begin with the colour, it's so not attractive and as someone who does not know colours, I can't decide if it's green or whatever colour it identifies as.

Then the inside. Okay, the inside I can definitely say, is green. Then for some reason, it's seed decided to occupy all the space available for the actual avocado to dwell (too selfish, if you ask me).

And then the taste. Oh my daysssssss. Avocado tastes like salted, blended grass. And you're trying to tell me that you as a person would actually prefer to eat that? You need Jesus.

What's worse, there are people that actually eat it for breakfast with their bread toast 😭 “I had avocado and toast for breakfast”, you have no idea how weird you sound you alien. 😭

So whether you like it or not, you DO NOT like avocado. Something or someone just brainwashed you to believe you do. For my own sanity, you don't like that fruit.

Let's move on, I'm having the irk talking about avocados.

3. Pawpaw.

Now, I say and ask this with genuine sincerity and concern. Who on God's green earth actually likes to eat pawpaw???? And I think this confusion all started in nursery/primary school, with the song or rhyme “pawpaw is a kind of fruit, sweet like sugar, yellow like fanta (this is an insult to fanta by the way😭), everybody likes pawpaw”. They used this song to brainwash everyone, lucky I escaped early enough so to an extend, I'm not even upset with anyone that says they like that fruit because they've been hypnotized to believe so.

It's big, filled with weird looking seeds that can actually pop then it has no taste—literally.

4. Sweet melon.

Now I do believe that anything “melon” is just very tasteless, with this very desperate need to be sweet (which it fails at woefully) and liked by everyone.

Sweet melon is just big and yellow for no damn reason. Then it has seeds that would pass for watermelon seeds if not that they're clear or yellow rather than black abi brown (don't come for me, I don't know colours 😭) like watermelon seeds.

You can't tell if you're eating an apple (which is really tasty) or a fake version of one.

It's big, yellow and just tastes like blahhhh in the mouth.

Nobody likes that fruit, they're just lying and pretending, you can't tell me otherwise.

5. Pears.

Now this one is like the cousin of avocados.

Talking about it now, I'm reminiscing on how my parents use to eat this thing, theyll boil it with salt and actually eat it (kill meeeeee 😭).

From the colour, to the shape, to the seed, everything about it just pisses me off and i can't fathom the fact that some people actually don't mind to eat it.

Say what you want, I'd never believe that anyone actually enjoys eating that.

Guys, that is the list of fruits that I KNOW is overrated and people don't actually like. The list continues oh, but I'll just list these for now.

Bite me, I don't care. 🙂‍↔️

I'm done ranting now. Byeeee.

And if you made it this far, subscribe. 😭🙏🏾

On today's episode of my dairy entry.

I've come to the conclusion that being fat is a curse in disguise. I was born fat, I've always been a fat girl. My mom is fat, my whole maternal family members are big and biologically, I more or less took after my mom in everything—looks, size, body system.

My parents never made me feel like I was “too much” or too “big” for my age. My mom fed my sister and I very well. She'd give us equal and enough portion of food to school because she would hate for her kids to be envious of another child's food. I was at ease at home because nobody made me feel inferior or caused me to shrink myself—methaphorically—to fit in.

Being laughed at or made fun of was very normal growing up. I had no friends and truly, I didn't want any because people always saw me as a plague because I was more jiggly and bigger than an average child of 10 years old. Oh how I hated the mirror, I hated my shadow even more because it reminded me that I can easily be mistaken for my mother, not because we look alike but because I'm that big.

I was used to the word “orobo” and truly, to this day, I HATE that word with a passion. Hearing it gives me PTSD and an irk. Whenever I'd have disputes with people my age (either at church for catechism or at school) it was very easy to get defeated with insults. Insults like elephant, “don't touch her before she sits on you”, “don't run oh before you'd cause earthquake to happen”. So I avoided every and anyone. Even if you'd want to pick a fight with me for just simply existing, I'd avoid you as much as I can because I couldn't bare the insults.

Clothes didn't fit. It's not news that the fashion industry does not put into consideration, fat people, even till date. Schools don't make big uniforms for big kids, stores don't have trousers that would fit, bras become hard to find, tops don't have enough space in it's sleeves to fit your big arms and you're insecure about your big arms, you get stuck in the middle because nothing fits and despite that you don't want to let your arms breathe either. I saw my curves as fat because that's what society and people said. Apparently, because I was a child, it was forbidden to be curvy so I hid them. I wore clothes my mother's age mates would wear, I didn't wear trousers and if I did, I'd wear a gown long enough to cover my curves and short enough to not reach my ankle. If I was sitting I'd cover my rolled up belly with my arms, if I was walking, my arms could cover my belly just so it won't be visible that I've got a big fupa or belly.

I didn't have a normal childhood. I didn't participate in sports or games at school because I was scared if I ran, I'd jiggle too much and that will cause an earthquake or make people notice me enough to laugh like I was a stand up comedian. This caused me to be more isolated than introverted, maybe that's why a part of me believes that being isolated and lonely for that long caused me to subconsciously conclude and believe that I'm an introvert. Maybe I wasn't created to be one, who knows.

I'd starve myself. I'd refuse to eat, I'd drink enough lemon, lime and Lipton tea with the hope of losing weight. How I wish I could have a word with younger me and just give her a big hug, tell her to get rid of those horrible, horrible clothes and flaunt her jiggly arms and beautifully huge and curvy hips. Poor thing. My mom would yell and complain that I wasn't eating well but oh well, as long as I lost weight I'd be fine, right?

Then I dropped out of school. My whole world crumbled. Things were extremely tight at home and my parents couldn't afford my tuition or education at that time. I dropped out of school and stayed home for exactly a year and two months (from July 2016 to September 2017). My sister was all the way at Kogi, my dad was transferred to Kebbi state and our world was not only apart but crumbling. It was just my mom and I now. I had just one friend, my bestfriend to this day. She'd come spend a week or two at our place, she'd leave for school from our house. We were the only tenants in our compound and the street we lived in was quite lonely during the day. So when my bestfriend goes to school and my mom—work, it was just me. Maybe the isolation caused my addiction problem (this is a topic for another day). I didn't go out. If I sighted my ex class and school mates, I'd go into hiding. This caused me to add extra weight because I wasn't moving around, I was always indoors and I was overthinking.

Here I am digressing from the subject matter, we're talking about being fat not about my struggles as a child, don't mind me, let's continue.

I say being fat is a curse in disguise because you're always trying. Trying to prove you can do it, trying to prove to love yourself, trying to get used to whatever size you wake up to being. Society says it's being “plus sized” and not “fat”, maybe they're saying that to make us feel better but truly let's call it what it is, you're fat. And honestly, there's nothing wrong with that.

God didn't create everybody to be skinny, did he? I remember when I finally resumed school in a public school and this guidance and counseling woman refused to attend to me and sent me home because I wore trousers, she said I was wearing whatever I wore to seduce male teacher and students lmao. My mom sha came to the school and caused and created a scene (I love that woman, my gosh). Apparently I've got to hid my curves. It's not my fault I'm curvy and fat but okay.

People will tell you to go to the gym, eat healthy, stop eating too much. This particular statement makes my blood boil; you're fat because you eat too much, lmao. People assume that just because you're fat, you're not healthy, you're obese and you'd die young.

For some reason, the mere existence of fat people disturbs and affects others. As a fat person, you get judged when you're in a bus, when you're in Keke, when you board a bike, when you're sitting, running, standing, eating, breathing….. existing.

“I just want you to be healthy” not you don't, you just want me to not exist because I'm bigger than you.

Men would tell you they like big women, they like extra fat but do they really mean that or they're just saying that to make us—fat girls—feel better?

I kept running away from my reality till I got tired. I had to face my reality. Yes I'm a fat girl, yes I'm big, yes I'm jiggly, yes my trousers tear in the thigh area because they rub on each other too much, yes my arms are big, but inspite all these, I deserve to love myself. Myself deserves to be loved by me. I had to teach myself everything I know about self love, step by step. I'd stand naked in the mirror and tell myself all the words society concluded was abominable to call me. I started wearing short tops that don't necessarily cover my ass or my curves, I started standing up for myself when I got body shamed even if it scared me to death, I stopped settling for less in romantic relationships even if society says nobody would want extra skin, I started speaking positively about and to myself.

That shouldn't be the case. Why do I have to do extra work than everyone in self development? Why is it hard for society to accept me and my fat body just the way it is? It's a lot of work building your confidence as a fat person, especially when compliments from people are not involved. No one deserves to go through that.

That is why I've concluded that being fat is a curse in disguise. Being fat is like racism, we might truly never be fully accepted for what we are, how we look and why we look that way.

All right, that's enough ranting.

See you next time.

Oh and just incase anyone reads this, subscribe or else I'll visit your dreams and it won't be to entertain you. 😗

I've always been someone who found intelligent people amusing, this isn't me saying I'm not intelligent, I'm talking about people who have an answer to literally any and everything you ask them and they always answer with long lectures and epistles that are actually not boring.

This wasn't different. I met this guy….let's call him Femi. I met Femi a few weeks ago (this information would later be very important) I just got out of a failed situationship and talking stage (fucked up, I know). Before I proceed, I want to say that, more than anything right now I'm trying to prioritize my relationship with God and fixing it too, with this in mind, having friends or knowing people that can lead me through that path is a privilege. I believe people should have friends for different purposes in their lives. I'll skip how I got to know this Femi guy and just proceed.

Femi started giving me a pep talk about my just ended friendship/situationship/talking stage—whatever you want to call it really. I was enjoying this pep talk, I finally felt seen and listened to. He compared his past and recent experience with mine and we had a full blown conversation about this dilemma of mine. Mind you, I barely know this guy. Everything he said, he managed to include Jesus in the sentence. He apologized constantly for that and tells me that he's a Christian and he can't be without including Jesus and I was somewhat elated because I've finally met my person that I can be Christian with (if that makes sense).

I urged him not to apologize because I found it quite impressive. We talked a lot about different subjects. The definition of love from a human and from God's point of view, how we ought to love just like Christ did. We sha talked about different things. Not for once did I think sex would be one of them because hey, this is a church boy. Strictly about Jesus and intellectual conversations, that's what he was for.

The next day, around like 5pm, the weather started threatening everyone's evening. I liked the view and how cozy the weather was. Then he texted me. We started having a random conversation about how our day was going and I told him about the weather, coincidentally, it was the same at his location. He said “it's a weather for two”, now I didn't think much of this statement and infact, it felt and looked like a weather for two. Deep down I knew where the conversation was heading but for some reason I didn't opt out, maybe because I miss texing that way with a guy or….just because, who knows.

He proceeded to talk about not having breasts to fumble on and not having a girl with him in such weather. At first, I was uncomfortable with the sudden shift in energy but did I digress? No. This is why they say listen to your inner voice or your gut, whatever you want to call it. I should've ended the conversation there and then but I liked the current subject matter so I choose to engage him.

He talked about not knowing why girls absolutely lose themselves in the act of being given head, mind you, we were having this conversation like it was some kind of important and intellectual conversation and he's one to always send voice notes so he was saying all these things and not actually texting them. I told him I had no idea because I haven't been that intimate with a son of Adam before. I still tried to defeat my flesh by indirectly giving Mr Femi hints that I wasn't interested in the path this conversation was heading but like they say, the flesh is powerful. Mr Femi the church boy didn't get the hint and I on the other hand, refused to use my sense.

I'm not so comfortable with talking about sexual stuff on here as it does not reflect the kind of person I hope to be (lmaoooo). Femi said a lot—how he'd introduce one finger and then another and then another and keep going, then he'd take each finger out one after the another and then start all over again while taking charge of one breast—and did a lot to my mind and imagination. What made all these worse was the fact that he was sending voice notes back to back, as long as 5 minutes explaining—in detail—everything he wants and is going to do to me if he had the chance, I was in awe.

This was a person whose mind I admired, whose church-boyness I found attractive in a very platonic way, someone I've barely known for a week and I'm already having these thoughts about him. That was unhealthy. After the back and forth with that conversation, I had returned back to my senses and ocean of shame flooded my mind. I was devastated, why you might wonder, I hated the fact that I can't undo what I've done and I can't see him differently anymore. I placed Femi on a very high pedestal and now I've got no choice than to bring him down.

He didn't see it as an issue, and this made me even more uncomfortable. According to him, I “enjoyed” myself and there was nothing to be ashamed about but I was ashamed more on his behalf than mine, because now I can't see him as the church boy who would later become a good influence in my life.

The day passed and I still wasn't comfortable with the incident that happened prior so I decided to talk to him about it. I told him I wasn't comfortable being sexual with him and I just want our relationship to be totally platonic, lacking any form of sexual interaction. He said it wasn't a big deal but agreed on my terms anyway.

Why can't boys and girls just be friends without having anything sexual bringing them together? Now I've lost a promising friendship because I can't unsee him in that light. Currently, we don't talk as much. Maybe I made it a big deal, maybe I was too forward, maybe sex-ting with a church boy isn't such a bad thing—as we all have sexual needs—but I'm not comfortable with it. Maybe I should text him and ask how he's doing, I don't know.

Anyway, this is my daily rant and I hope Femi doesn't see this.

Until when next I've got something to rant about. Bye bye.

I met Henry when I was 15, I started noticing him at church. Stay away from church boys you guys else they'll show you pepper and shege, you'd cry. And avoid quiet people, there's just something about them that's unpredictable. Let's not deviate, so…I started seeing Henry at church before, during and after mass I'd see him. I'd see him around my area as well. Henry was like a bear, that's the best way I can describe him. He was super tall, huge to the core but the healthy kind of huge (if that makes sense), he was light skinned and extremely hairy. He had curly eye lashes and full eye brows. His hair was dark and full and curly. He was right out of a fantasy novel written by a desperately single lady.

I was hooked. Till today, I do not know if my experience with Henry shaped my ideal guy and what he ought to look like. Tall, chubby, light skinned, hairy, bearded. I'd always tell my bestfriend Nguemo that I'd approach him and ask for his number because believe it or not, I did the talking when the topic was men. I've always been a fat girl, that made me insecure and I started seeing it as a privilege when men or guys (men sounds too serious) pick interest in me so I just decided to always do the talking, we'd talk about this some other time.

On a faithful Sunday, July 27th 2020 to be exact, my bestfriend and I saw him after mass ended. He was strolling to the exit gate like everyone else was, my friend called my attention to his presence and said I should approach him like I swore I would. I froze, I couldn't do it. How could I? He looked like his blood line has Italian people in it, that's how handsome he was. My friend got tired of my inability to be a “dare devil” and approached him on my behalf. She told him her friend wants to have a word with him. I could barely form words from my mouth, I managed to ask his name and he told me. Henry. Then I asked for his number and then he smirked and asked why, I wanted to pee myself then I told him I just wanted to be friends. Then he gave me his number. When I tell you, I felt my heart do a choreography for more than 30 minutes. I was elated.

Henry and I got talking and let me just say, that was the beginning of the foundation of my heart shattering. We'd talk for hours unending. I told Henry everything about me. From when I'm on my period, to when I'm going to pee or poo (too much information, I know) when I'm going to sleep, he knows. Henry knew everything about me, including my daddy issues. I'd spend hours of the day and night talking to this boy instead of studying for my WAEC exams. On my 16th birthday September of that same year, he got me a pendant shaped as a key saying, that was the key to his heart (cheezy, I know).

I believe that this boy was mesnt for me, that was so silly of me, I'll admit. When 2021 came and he got admission into uni, my bestfriend Nguemo told me to forget about this boy because he will likely do the same, now that he's going to school. I strongly disagreed or rather, a part of me was holding unto the hope that my imagination would become reality.

Let me give you guys a back story. When I met this guy, he was the definition of “hopeless”. He portrayed himself as a depressed guy who was struggling everything to survive. Henry would hurt himself with a razorblade and take a picture and send it to me. I'd see the scares beneath his arm hair and how red and sometimes purple the affected part of his skin would be because of how light skinned he was. I was this guy's unpaid therapist. I’d talk sense into him, we'd share a few kisses here and there. I'd let this boy slap my ass like it's normal, chai…I don mumu for man sha.

In the later years of 2022/2024, I experienced different emotional rollercoaster in the hands of Henry. Whenever I brought the topic of “us”, he'd always tell me he's not ready for a relationship but when he is, he'd let me know. He'd tell me that he's utterly undeserving of me and that's why he's trying to work on himself to be worth my existence in his life. I believed him. Everyone in my life knows about Henry. Even people in my neighborhood know that I walk around with him. Some people would casually tell me that if we got together and had babies, they'd be cute. They'd say we compliment each other because he's chubby and I'm fat. All those opinions clouded my frontal lobe and didn't let me reason properly.

Things target to change when the year 2024 began. Henry changed. No money frequent texts, he didn't care to come over to see me anymore, he'd act like he didn't see me at church, he'd leave for school and not tell me he was going. Deep down, I knew this has ended and that the ship is sinking or has already sunk but I was too naive to listen to my brain. My heart was still in control, even if it didn't know what to tell me anymore.

Let me know bore you with his escapades. Later on, he blocked me from viewing his status on WhatsApp, he turned off his read receipts. In my head, I thought he must've had another emotional breakdown and was depressed again, I had no idea this man had moved on and is dating multiple women in school. Or rather, I did know because he told me. Yes, when he came back for his internship in 300lvl, he told me he had a thing with two ladies in school which led to him losing his virginity (this was also a lie, nigga was never a virgin). I didn't know how to feel when he told me this, i wasn't his girlfriend so I had no right to be upset but he also knows how I feel about him so I do have a right to be upset because he knows letting me have access to information like that will hurt me, but he told me anyways. Maybe that was him giving me a sign to move on, but like the “pick me” that I was, I wanted to fight for the man I loved. Lmao.

I had to ask a mutual friend of ours and this friend brought to my notice that Henry was still updating his status daily, lmao….omo God will punish that boy for me sha. I know what you might be thinking, I was too young to love or understand what love meant, I ought to focus on my job, self esteem and passing jamb so I can go to uni but I was 20 years old, I think I did understand what love meant because what I felt was love.

On a faithful day while I was at work, before now, we hadn't spoken for over three weeks. I decided to not give a fuck but who was I kidding, I gave as many fucks as necessary so I DM’d him saying I just wanted to say hi and that I miss him…so stupid of me, but let me finish. This boy said “I don't know why you're texting me, hence we haven't spoken for awhile. I'm okay, about to finish my internship at Kubwa”. I was dumbfounded when I read that text. Mind you, I was at work so I had to still focus on work. I couldn't fully comprehend that text or understand the new Henry I was talking to. He didn't even ask how I was doing. This happenef on a Friday. Regardless, I still kept texting him for the remainder of the week because I wanted things to go back to normal. He didn't reply…I wish I could slap old Onozare. She should've known better.

On a Sunday afternoon, I was at home wondering when this useless NEPA would bring light when my phone lit up and I saw on the notification bar that Henry sent a text. It want him replying to the questions I asked or him updating me about his life or even him asking about my life, it was him telling me that he's in a relationship now and that he thanks me for everything but I should move on with my life because he doesn't think we can remain friends. “Be safe Naomi”, that was his ending note.

For the first time in my life, I experienced severe panic and anxiety attack. I couldn't breathe, I was choking on my own tears and even my lungs rejected air. That day, a part of me that would love unconditionally died.

Henry is the reason I've forgotten how to love. I had to relearn how to even love myself or tolerate the sight of me because even I disgusted at my behaviour. I sent the last text he sent to me to myself on WhatsApp. I still read that message sometimes and wonder where I went wrong with love and with Henry. My situationship lastest for four years and I was ashamed to tell anyone how I'm heart broken because of a relationship that never existed. Because of a man I never dated.

A quick advice, you're not anyone's therapist so stop trying to fix everyone. Detect a situationahip early enough before it's too late because trust me, you'd know when they're friend zoning you. If he hits you with the “I'm not ready for a relationship” or “you're too perfect for me”, please run. For the sake of your health.

And that guys is how I was someone's situationship for four years.

I should turn substack to my journal or diary or something. Regardless of the lack of likes or comments. Afterall, this is a safe space.

Take care dear reader (that's if anyone reads this, lmao) and Jesus loves you. ♥️

And if there are typo errors, bear with me. I can't re read all these words. Sorry. 🙏🏾