We’ve tried to protect our peace so much that we’ve also lost our ability to manage conflict until it reaches the point of understanding.

To be able to see my thought in this article properly, you’d need to accept that two things can co-exist independently here: the frequency at which we cut good people off at the slightest inconvenience, and the fact that some people were worth letting go of.

What drew my attention to this topic was the fact that I watch a lot of videos: divorce stories, friendship breakups, toxic family rants, church hurt, etc.

As a society, we’ve become more knowledgeable about topics like narcissism, attachment styles, toxic patterns, gaslighting, and therapy. Which is great, but we’ve also forgotten the place of sacrifice, forgiveness, growth, and loyalty.

I’ve watched people block their friends/partner, or ghost them, and come online to talk about the misunderstanding they had with the person instead of hashing out their differences in private and preserving the connection.

It’s like we would rather chase the high of virality and empty empathy from strangers than fight for something we once loved.

A slight inconvenience from your partner and it’s, “How I married the wrong man, the ending will shock you”. A friend didn’t attend your wedding because she was genuinely busy, and the next best thing to do is cut her off. Oh, and let’s not forget setting up your ring light and camera to give your followers some “Let me tell you the story of how my best friend didn’t attend my wedding”.

It’s not just fighting for what we once loved but fighting for what we want to have. Guys don’t outrightly approach girls anymore for fear of being misunderstood, and girls don’t give an open signal anymore for fear of being too easy. Whatever happened to yearning? To wanting something enough to risk looking foolish for it?

Once a prayer goes unanswered, or a person you love dies, or you have some issues you’re struggling with, the easier route is to abandon faith and turn to atheism. There’s no single fight left in our bones.

I agree that the generation before ours suffered many forms of abuse that have led to this overcompensation, but these people had friendships that lasted over 40 years. Many of them were married until one spouse died, and the extended family still gathered together every holiday to celebrate no matter how toxic they’ve been to each other.

I think our ability to look people in the eyes and say “I'm not going anywhere, it’s me and you forever” is slowly but surely going extinct, and individualism is on the rise.

Just because something is difficult doesn’t mean that it’s not worth fighting for.

Your partner is worth fighting for. Your friend is worth fighting for. Your mom is worth fighting for. Your Job is worth fighting for. Your faith is worth fighting for.

As long as the other people involved are willing to fight for you too, they’re worth fighting for.

Till next time,

Love and Light.

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The concept of kairos has always intrigued me. Every time I listened to stories of seemingly unpleasant circumstances turning out so good in the end, it always reminds me of the superimposition of the spiritual over the physical.

Kairos is like a U-turn on a map that was headed for a cliff. Let me back up a little and explain what kairos is. In layman’s terms, kairos is synonymous with the word coincidence. The word coincidence is translated from the Greek word synkyrian, which is a combination of two words: sun and kurios. Sun means “together with,” and kurious means “supreme in authority.”

So a biblical definition of coincidence would be “what occurs together by God’s providential arrangement of circumstances.”

Someone else defines divine providence (Kairos) as God’s continuous and active involvement in sustaining, guiding, and directing all things towards the fulfillment of His purpose.

To say it plainly, God is really in control. And you can see this play out in scripture.

The exact day and time that Moses’ mother had had enough hiding him, and decided to float him by the river banks coincided with the time Pharaoh’s daughter was going for a bath. And moses became one of the only children, if not the only child that was spared from the massacre.

The exact same time Josephs brothers wanted to kill him was the time that Egyptian slave traders were passing by and they decided to sell him instead. This was Josephs entry into the fulfilment of his destiny.

The exact same time Abraham and Isaac were going up the hill to sacrifice Isaac in obedience to God was when a ram was climbing the hill too, and God used the lamb as sacrifice instead of Isaac.

The people who killed Jesus thought they were doing the right thing in preventing His ministry but they were only just fulfilling the purpose of God.

1 Corinthians 2:7-8 “But we impart a secret and hidden wisdom of God, which God decreed before the ages for our glory. None of the rulers of this age understood this, for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory.”

This led me to a conclusion: the plan of God cannot be stopped.

God cannot be stopped, God cannot be surprised, God cannot be defeated, God cannot be limited.

It might look like everything is working against you, but God can still use it to fulfil purpose.

If you’re aligned in the will of God, even things that look like set backs to the natural eyes could be stepping stones into what God has planned out for you. And even when you feel like you’ve made a mistake, your wrong turns are still on God’s map. The sovereignty of God factors in your frailty.

Till next time my dearies,

Love and Light.

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Those would be the words best suited to the occasion.

The Atilogwu dancers were already on stage, and everyone was seated around them in a semicircle under the tents. The sound of the ikoro, paired with the flute, and the body movement of the dancers, totally captivated the audience in such a way that nobody paid I and Oluchi any attention as we slipped into their midst.

When the dance ended, Mazi Mbekwe walked to the centre of the stage, his huge protruding belly could be seen first before you noticed his receding hairline. He was the kind of man who loved attention and was eager to please; this always earned him the MC title at these traditional events. I knew him because he is my father’s friend.

“Umunna kwenu!”

“Yaa”

“Kwenu!”

“Yaa!”

“Kwezuo nu!”

“Eiiiiiii!”

“Today we’re here to celebrate our beautiful daughters who have come of age to be considered women. We’ve also brought our sons, perhaps they may find any daughter of yours beautiful and eligible to marry…”

At this statement, Oluchi let out a gleeful sound and squeezed my hands softly; luckily, the sound was loud enough to be heard only by me. I shot her a mean side eye, shaking my head.

“...this is more than an event, this is the strengthening of the umunna bond. If my son marries your daughter, we become one. We can expand business horizons…”

Turning my eyes away from Mazi Mbekwe, I scanned the crowd. We were seated in the middle, with the rest of the girls undergoing the passage rites. To our left were our parents, exotically dressed and looking like they were being awarded a Guinness World Record for successfully raising girls. My father looked like an ichie in his attire, even his straight back and tight smile seemed dignified. To our right were the Atilogwu dancers and drummers. The far right was where every eye beside me was focused. The eligible bachelors were seated there, staring at us with as much excitement.

Mazi Mbekwe’s speech had faded into the background as voices rose all around me, anticipating who would pick whom.

Oluchi giggled. I turned my head to look at her, then followed her eyes to see a gentleman blow a kiss at her. Irritation coursed through me.

“How is that funny, Oluchi. Ị magị ha, you don’t know this person, and they’re already blowing kisses at you. Is that not wrong?”

Rolling her eyes such that only the white part was visible, Oluchi turned to look at me.

“Nani, calm down, you’re twenty-three, not thirteen. How do you want to attract anyone with how rigid you are? Besides, what do you know about men or relationships?”

My head whipped around so fast to catch Oluchi’s eyes, but she averted them; she had hit a low blow, and she knew it.

She was right, though. What did I know about relationships?

Every guy I’ve met in the course of my life took the form of my father in my head; unable to draw out the safe environment for anything to thrive off of.

My Father. My life seemed to revolve around him.

###

I remember when I first got my period. I was seated on one of our luxurious white sitting room cushions, adjacent to the television I was watching. One leg was tucked into the chair, and the other swung freely below.

The program I was watching was just about rounding up when Nnam walked in, and took a seat opposite the TV. As soon as the chair squeaked under his weight, I got up and headed upstairs. This was our routine; we never stayed long enough to enjoy each other’s presence.

I almost made it to the stairs when his surprisingly soft voice stopped me in my tracks, “Ofuruche, you…” his voice trailed.

I arched an eyebrow quizzically as I turned to look at him. Clearing his throat, he tried again.

“You…”

“You…”

“You’re bleeding, go and get me my car keys, and then have your bath.”

“Bleeding ke, and I’m not dirty. I’ve already had my bath today, “ I began to protest.

Nnam does not speak the same things twice; his silence makes his request final. He just stared at me like he saw a ghost.

Defeated, I grabbed his keys from the dining table and placed them on his chair, then turned to walk upstairs.

I felt it.

It hit me like a punch in the gut. I bent over, groaned and grabbed my tummy. A warm fluid was rolling down my legs, and I felt wet. My eyes followed the movement until it became visible from under my skirt; it was blood.

“Chim o!!, chim o!!, something is happening to me, help me!!!!” I started crying.

My Father, keys in hand, head turned with mouth wide open, couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He looked genuinely terrified, which increased my anxiety all the more.

“I think I might be dying! Call an ambulance!” The crying intensified.

“Wait there.”

I didn’t see Nnam when he got up or walked out because I was engrossed in my plea not to die, until I heard the sound of the door shut.

Hearing the door, I lay down on the floor, wailing. I thought my father had left me to die alone. I thought about my life. People say that in the last seven minutes before you die, your life flashes before your eyes.

The only memory that came to mind was my distant and cold father.

A few minutes later, I heard footsteps approaching and the door opened to reveal Aunty Nnenna with a troubled face and a black nylon bag in her hand.

She passed through the door cautiously, like her footsteps could enhance the dying process.

“ Nani, Ọ gịnị dị, what is it? Your father called me, saying your time had come.”

“But I’m not ready to die yet Aunty. I haven’t even started living” Snot and tears had already drawn unpleasant trails down my face.

Her face unravelled a little, smoothing the wrinkles around her forehead.

“Who said anything about dying? I bụgo nwaanyị ugbu a, you have become a woman now”

I didn’t care to understand what that meant. I was bleeding. What did blood have to do with maturity?

“Aunty, can you not see the blood? Can you not see that something is wrong?”

Aunty Nnenna chuckled, then started to laugh. The kind of laughter that made her hunch over and grab the armrest of our cushion to steady herself.

“Nwa, I gaghị egbu m, you will not kill me. It’s called menses, and it happens to every girl at a certain age”

Still lying on the ground with the pain ravaging through my abdomen and slowly crippling my legs, I couldn’t utter a reply.

“Oya come, Bili ọtọ, stand up, let’s get you cleaned. See, you stained your father’s chair. Anyways, don’t worry about that, the housekeeper would clean it up.”

Coming closer to me, she easily lifted me off the ground with a hand around my arm, and we walked upstairs.

###

“...Okay, before I bore you younglings…” Mazi Mbekwe’s voice roused me from my recollection.

“We open this ceremony. To us, and to our future generations. There’s food right behind us. Please help yourself to it, and don’t forget to mix. Talk to the person beside you, you might never know what might come out of it.”

With that, he went over to the DJ to return the mic as asake’s ‘them never see me coming’ boomed from the speakers.

Hi guys, I hope you enjoyed today’s episode. I decided to tell Nani’s story, and I’d love to bring you along with me.

Please leave a like and comment if you enjoy reading this. I’m also thinking of writing this consistently, so please stick around. I love you guys.

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I forgot about the article until I was in a random conversation with my two friends from church, and one of them referenced my article, saying that she felt it deeply.

In that moment, I felt both gratitude and reassurance. Gratitude because, in uncovering myself through writing, someone felt seen, and reassurance because I felt seen in her compliment. The irony of the whole thing was that she didn’t even hit the like button on the post.

There’s something Salem King always says, and I paraphrase, “Never delete a post because of low engagement, you would never know who it might reach.”

I understand where Salem King is coming from, but I also understand that the internet is a very scary place where people can dig up tweets from 15 years ago that can destroy your career. The internet never forgets. And I see it almost every day when a cringy old video of a now-famous person starts recirculating again, and it’s still cringy.

I sometimes wonder why they didn’t delete the post before it went viral, but the truth is, it was probably the many cringy posts where people dared to be themselves that brought them the following and influence that they currently have.

Your craving for perfection might be the very thing stopping you from attaining visibility and influence. This is not to devalue excellence, but if you keep waiting till all your ducks are in a row, you might miss the wind. There are many people who started with what was in their hands, and God worked with what they had (at this point, this article is more for me than for anyone else).

I know many things could be obstacles, the post doesn’t have to be cringy. It could be the quality of the camera that you currently have, or the fact that you aren’t yet as articulate as you could be, or that you aren’t a master of your craft yet.

Whatever it might be that has you hovering your thumb over the delete button. Hold on, and think about the bigger picture. Ask yourself, in 5 years’ time, would this post be positively or negatively influential? If it were positively influential, let it be, let it be a part of your process. A track record that you kept pushing even if you only had a little to begin with.

So yes, don’t delete that post because of low engagement. Choose momentum over perfection.

Till next time,

Love and light.

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That was the name my father called me, not the name on my birth certificate. Nanichibuchukwu was my name, which meant “Only God is God,” but my father, in bitter grief, chose to call me Ofuruche, “One who has been forgotten.”

For truly, in my father’s heart, I died with my mother the day she chose the cowardly exit. It didn’t help that everyone else saw her spitting image whenever I walked into the room. I had never seen a picture of her because my relatives thought that having her pictures around the house would bring Isiọjọọ, bad luck. They never said her name out loud, either, only in hushed whispers so I wouldn’t hear, and my father couldn’t care less. What she had done the day of my first birthday was Alu, an abomination.

…

“Nani…”

“Naniiiii…”

I looked away from the mirror towards the now-opened bedroom door that accommodated my aunt Nnenna’s plump frame. If the width of the door were an inch or two smaller, she would have to enter through her side.

“I’ve been standing here for the past two minutes, ogịnị ka ị na-eche?, what are you thinking about?”

“Oh, aunty, Ewela iwe, I didn’t see you there.”

I tried to smile a little, but her suspicious gaze made it an impossible task.

My aunt always weaved English with Igbo while speaking, she said it was a way to ground herself in her cultural roots, and you had to reply to her in the same way or totally in Igbo. I didn’t mind her frequent intrusion into my personal space, she is my mother’s sister, the closest I would ever be to having a mother.

“Just negodu this girl, are you coming out or not? You’re not even dressed. Or don’t you want to be part of the ịpụta nwa mgbede?”

The way she pronounced girl sounded more like geluuu. The Igbo language has a way of affecting your English.

“Oluchi has gotten ready oh. You should see how she keeps adjusting her mgbájí and rubbing nzu all over her face. I told her that it is enough before her face would look like Mmụọ…”

“Aunty, I was about to start getting ready when you entered, ana m abịa biko, I’m coming please.”

I had to cut her off; if not, I’d spend the next ten minutes listening to her narrate every little thing that had happened.

Aunty Nnenna made her small resignation sigh that sounded like a hiss but was more settled in the throat. She closed the door.

Today is my Iru Mgbede. The day I come out to society as an adult, a woman. You would think this was back in the primitive days, but no, my father became a traditionalist after my mother died, and although we live in Lagos, he somehow found a group of traditionalists who still practiced cultural rites together.

I stood up from my vanity mirror and walked over to the closet to get ready. Taking out my akwete fabric, I tied it like a wrapper, from my chest down to my ankle. I put on my Mgba Olu, Mgba Aka, and Mgba Ụkwụ, which was the easy part, the part I struggled with was the Mgbájị. I didn’t know if I should wear it from my legs or pass it through my head. I ended up passing it through my head like a shirt.

My beads rattled as I walked out of my room, down the stairs, and into the parlor.

Oluch was the first to look up. She’s Aunty Nnenna’s daughter, my cousin. On seeing Oluchi, I burst out laughing. Her face was literally covered in Nzu, and her hands had Uhie all over them.

“Oluchi, Gịnị na-eme, what’s going on?” I asked between laughter.

“Abeg, Abeg, don’t start. This is a once in a life time event, I might as well dress very well.”

Oluchi was not like Aunty Nnenna; she either spoke fluid English or she spoke pidgin. She hated speaking Igbo because, in her own words, “it would mess up her pronunciation.”

“Hapu Oluchi, I’ve already told her that her make-up makes her look like Mmụọ. I’m glad you came down early, but I thought you would tie your wrapper around your chest and waist. Nne show small skin, you’ve become a woman now.” Aunt Nnenna piped in from the comfortable couch she was rather sinking into than sitting in.

“Both of you don’t know fashion.” Oluchi said after giving both of us a yinmu.

Taking in the living room I’d lived in my whole life, the white walls, the glass side stools rimmed with gold colour, the white sofa, also rimmed with gold colour. The wide space, high ceilings, and the fake lion’s head that stared at you from the mantle. A typical rich Igbo man’s taste.

“Ebee ka nnà m nọ?, where’s my Father?” I asked, specifically looking at Aunty Nnenna.

She pretended not to hear my question.

Oluchi came to the rescue, “Oh, he already went ahead, he said we should be coming.”

“Ngwanu, let’s go.” Aunty Nnenna said while standing up.

She picked up her bag from a side stool, rested it on her arms, and began walking towards the door. Oluchi grabbed my hands, intertwined her fingers with mine, and gave me a small smile. This was what Oluchi had done since we were four years old, whenever my father would choose distance over connection. She had the emotional intelligence of a grandma.

I returned the smile, although my heart ached, and we both stepped out of the house to see Aunty Nnenna rev the car and signal for us to get in quickly.

Hi guys, I hope you enjoyed today’s episode. I decided to tell Nani’s story in chapters, and I’d love to bring you along with me.

Please leave a like and comment if you enjoy reading this. I’m also thinking of writing this consistently, so please stick around. I love you guys.

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heavy breathing.

Even though the evening seemed still and normal, her breath audibly sliced through the stillness, restless to release the chaos going on in her head. The refrigerator hummed monotonously, echoing in the empty garage space. With eyes staring unblinking out the garage window at the deep orange and purple sunset, Amanda finally made a decision.

This was going to be her last view, a pretty sunset.

###

She had never noticed the rope that leaned halfway on the garage wall until last week, when she came looking for the vegetables she had stocked up in the fridge. She was bent over, surveying the lower portion of the fridge when the corner of her eye caught its texture. That was not the day she decided she would end her existence, no, that was the day it materialized.

Nothing felt the same anymore since she gave birth a year ago. I mean, it was the miracle child she had waited nine years for, but after a month of love and joy, earth became hell, and she couldn’t recognise herself anymore. Her prescription tells her that it’s postpartum depression, but the deep darkness opened up to a void, and she counted herself as one of its victims. Lost in the void forever.

Motherhood took almost everything from her. Her body, her time, her sleep, and the ability to just function normally. Nani demanded her all, her husband needed her, the church missed her presence, and then there was her PhD in mathematics staring her in the face. In the midst of it all, her husband had lost his job a few years back, and they were plunging headfirst into poverty. She thought she was going to go mad, but she would rather end it than look into the pitiful eyes of people.

The rope gave her hope. Hope that there was an escape. Hope that this was not the end. Hope that she could return, but return to what? She couldn’t tell.

This last week was the happiest she had been in over 10 years. The pain finally had an expiry date. She chose the date well, January 31st, the day Nani was born. How ironic.

She did what any other happy person would do: she laughed. Really laughed. The kind that made your belly tighten and threaten to release the fluid in your bladder. She played with Nani and took more pictures and videos than she had in over 5 years. She joked around the house, went to church, and spent time arranging the welfare of other people. She called friends to tell them how much she loved and appreciated them, she danced with her husband for the first time in over five years, and she cooked meals that made the whole table salivate. Her husband commended her happiness, saying the antidepressants were finally working. Yes, the antidepressant of a rope.

###

Turning away from the beautiful sunset to face the empty garage, her husband would pull up into this same garage in 12 minutes. Good, it left her 10 minutes to act.

She grabbed the rope from the left side of the garage, where it slanted, and the laundry basket beside the fridge. Dragging the basket to the middle of the garage, she turned it over and tested its stability with the weight of one foot. It held. She stood with her full weight on it; it held up. Good.

With the rope in her hand, she started to act. 9 minutes left. She flung the rope into the ceiling, hoping it would catch among the ridges. At first, she kept missing, so she stopped, took a deep breath to steady herself, and flung it again. This time, it caught a ridge. She tied a knot to hold it on the ridge and tied the second knot towards the base.

8 minutes left. She thought about Nani for a split second, but wiped away the thought before it could deter her from the act. She was tired, and that was all she willed her mind to think about. She was tired of not feeling good enough. She was tired of people treating her like she could pray the depression away. She was tired of hoping for a breakthrough in her husband’s career. She tied the second knot around her neck.

Tighter.

Tighter.

Tighter.

Until the airflow stopped.

Then she kicked the basket away from under her feet.

The only sound she heard while the darkness took its place was the piercing scream of Nani.

Hi guys, today is not a love and light article. I decided to tell Nani’s story, and I’d love to bring you along with me.

Please leave a like and comment if you enjoy reading this. I’m also thinking of writing this consistently, so please stick around. I love you guys.

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I hear people say that they had an eighteen-hour vision and God showed them his plan for their lives, or that they just exactly knew what they were supposed to do. And then there’s you and me who feel like adopted children because we had no such encounters with purpose.

Pastor Emmanuel Iren describes purpose as “That one thing which you were made for, and in which you must succeed at, else nothing you succeed at will count.”

If you’re like me, who is tired of asking “what is my purpose? Why did God create me?”

If you’re like me, who has dabbled in many things, art, writing, service, work, in the hope that one thing would miraculously be the plan of God for my life. Let me show you something that I missed that I think would be helpful.

To many people, purpose is revealed. Take Jesus as an example. The whole Old Testament was pointing towards the purpose He was to fulfill. He knew exactly why He had come; there was prophecy over Him.

There’s also Abraham, whom God showed the stars of the earth, and told Abraham his purpose. There were the prophets of old that God specifically called, like Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Gideon, to whom an angel appeared.

In our search for purpose, we often expect the divine. The vision, the angels, the dream, the encounter. Like I said, to many people, purpose is revealed, but to the even greater population, purpose is actively lived in without them knowing.

Purpose isn’t always grand. You might not have the greatest wealth or have the greatest influence. Purpose may not even measure up to the things that men applaud, but to heaven, you fulfilled destiny.

The hymn that we sing today, “It is well with my soul” by Horatio Spafford, was written in 1871. The tragedy that preceded this hymn would never in a million years be classified as in line with purpose.

Horatio Spafford was an attorney and real estate investor who lost a fortune in the Great Chicago fire of 1871. He also lost his son to scarlet fever. In his bid to ease everything, he sent his wife and four daughters on a ship to England for vacation, planning to join them after he finished some pressing business at home. They had a shipwreck, and only his wife survived. Horatio wanted to join his wife and set sail for England. While at sea, the captain of the ship, aware of the tragedy that had struck the Spafford family, summoned Horatio to tell him that they were now passing over the spot where the shipwreck had occurred. It was in grief and pain that a beautiful hymn that millions would find comfort in was born.

There were many others who lived in purpose. Like Rahab, the ancestor of our Lord, who hid the spies. Did you think a prostitute was interested in the purpose of God for her life?

There was Joseph of Arimathea, who had a grave prepared for Jesus. Did you think he knew that his name would ever enter the Bible? He didn’t follow Jesus loudly but secretly, as a wealthy and respected member of the Sanhedrin Council.

There was Mary Magdalene, who broke the alabaster flask of costly oil and anointed Jesus’ feet. Jesus said she anointed His body for burial. She was honored for that singular act.

All these people would have escaped the natural person’s mind as doing normal things, but to heaven, they fulfilled that one thing for which they were made. No encounter, no dream, no vision, no angel.

In my search for purpose, God has been revealing to me that if you align yourself with whatever He is doing, you will fulfil purpose even if you’re never told specifically what it is.

It might be an ordinary day where you tell an unbeliever about Jesus, and the person turns out to be the next apostle Paul. It might be an ordinary thing for you to write something that would change the lives of people forever. It might be a song composed in despair and great pain, but it would be sung by millions in faith. It might be a child that you have to dedicate your all to, who God would use mightily.

To the majority like you and me, purpose is actively lived in day by day, even if we have no revelation of what it looks like. Alignment is our strategy to fulfil purpose. Only align yourself with what God is doing and watch Him use you.

Serve humanity, preach the gospel, love people, know God (really know and serve Him), and somewhere in between, purpose will find you.

Remember not to despise the little things, because they don’t seem grand enough to you, it might just be where God will have you be.

Till next time,

Love and Light.

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I’m angry. Nigerians are angrier. It has become the survival of the fittest as prices surge, and those who can afford it are adjusting their lives to fit the current standard; those who can’t afford it…. can go to hell!

I decided to do a research into all the presidential candidates for 2027, so you wouldn’t have to. Some of the current 2027 presidential aspirants are Bola Tinubu, Atiku Abubakar, Peter Obi, Rotimi Amaechi, Rabiu Kwankwaso, and Ahmed Datti. If you’re really angry, you’ll seek more information, so your anger can carry facts, not just feelings.

This research is basically to know the person behind the position and what he has done with the position he has.

The secret of men is in their stories, and we’d be looking at the story that shapes the person of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu.

I divided his political career into 4 parts: pre 1997, 1999 to 2007, post 2007, and post 2023.

Pre 1997 - Who’s the man?

Many people underestimate the current president, “Bola Ahmed Tinubu”. His street intelligence, resilience, and political understanding.

Tinubu relocated from the UK in 1983, where he worked at Mobil, to join Exxon Mobil in Nigeria as an auditor. He rose from auditor to general auditor and then to treasurer. What took him from auditor to treasurer was a thorough audit he did that indicted some directors, including the MD of Mobil, and led to their suspension. To save the company’s image, Tinubu was appointed as treasurer.

One thing Tinubu was good at was sourcing for funds such that his former boss at mobil Otunba Solomon Oladunni said, “One of the things that I still remember very vividly in terms of lasting legacies that he left behind even in the financial sector is that he was heavily involved in the financing scheme to source for funds that led to the building of the Mobil House which is a standing edifice up till today”.

Apparently, he wasn’t satisfied with his career at Exxon Mobil, and one day, he scheduled a meeting with one of Mobil’s directors, Chief Pius Akinyelure, to tell him that he (Tinubu) was resigning and going into politics.

In 1992, Tinubu ventured into politics. He joined the Social Democratic Party of Nigeria (SDP), led by Shehu Musa Yar’Adua, and was elected to the Nigerian Senate to represent the Lagos West senatorial district in 1993. That election was annulled. After its annulment, Tinubu, alongside other pro-democratic politicians, founded the National Democratic Coalition (NADECO). NADECO was established to restore democracy and to ensure that the June 12 election result was reinstated.

This NADECO was seen as a threat to the Sanni Abacha military regime, and so Tinubu packed his bags and went on a self-imposed exile to the UK in 1994. He returned to the country in 1998, when Abacha had died, and clinched the governorship ticket in Alliance for Democracy (AD) in 1998. He won the Lagos state governorship election in 1999.

1999 to 2007 - Governor Sir?

Tinubu became the governor of Lagos state in 1999, and a sixteen-year struggle against an opposition party, PDP, began.

Under Tinubu’s regime, Lagos would go from a normal state to a global business hub.

One of Tinubu’s tactics in the economic agenda for Lagos was his tax reform. Most of Nigeria’s petroleum revenues are retained by the central government, and the revenue Lagos state received from the lot was insufficient to run a city of its size. Tinubu wasn’t going to sit around waiting for the Federal government revenue allocation, and decided to generate revenue internally, especially in 2004, after the state government withdrew Lagos state’s funds to punish Tinubu for non-compliance with the ruling government’s politics.

Under Tinubu, Lagos went from collecting 933 naira per capita ($42 USD) in taxes in 1999 to 15,443 naira per capita ($90 USD) in 2009. This was more than a doubling of tax effort, making Lagos stand out when compared to other states in Nigeria. To make it more understandable, the internally generated revenue in Lagos went from a monthly average of roughly ₦600 million to ₦700 million in 1999 to approximately ₦7 billion to ₦8.3 billion per month by 2007.

In the words of a research paper on: A Political and Economic Assessment of President Ahmed’s Administration as Lagos state governor;

Tinubu's economic agenda focused on creating a business-friendly environment, attracting investments, and diversifying the state's revenue base. Key reforms included:

• Investment incentives: Offering tax breaks, subsidies, and infrastructure support to attract businesses.

• Privatization: Encouraging private sector participation in key sectors like energy, transportation, and waste management.

• Lagos became Nigeria's economic hub, accounting for over 25% of the country's GDP.

• Foreign investment increased significantly, with the state attracting major international companies.

The economic growth of Lagos started attracting people from all over the country and even those outside the country.

In 2007, Tinubu could not be re-elected as he had already served an 8-year term, and so under his party, his chief of staff, “Raji Fashola,” was elected the governor of Lagos State.

Post 2007 - The Godfather

The elite theory of democracy posits that a small, interconnected minority—comprising political, economic, and military leaders—holds the vast majority of power and makes key policy decisions, regardless of democratic elections

Asiwaju has always been a political strategist; we can call him the godfather. He might not have been visible to the public during this time, but he was very hands-on in deciding the political future of Nigeria from the backstage.

Baba has, over the years, nurtured and trained several political players.

“Raji Fasola was once Chief of Staff to Tinubu before he governed the state for eight years, Minister of Youth and Sport; Sunday Dare was also once Chief of Staff to Tinubu, Minister of Information; Lai Mohammed was once Tinubu cabinet member and ACN spokesperson, former Osun state governor and present Minister of Interior; Rauf Aregbesola was Tinubu’s Commissioner of Works, the present Minister of State for Health, Sen Mamora was Tinubu’s man, former chairman of Federal Inland Revenue Service (FIRS) Tunde Fowler was Tinubu groomed public officials, the present governor of Lagos state Babajide Sanwolu was his political tutelage too, Vice President Yemi Osibajo was Tinubu’s Commissioner of Justice and Attorney General of Lagos state, the emergence of President Muhammadu Buhari himself and many other individuals that he has invested heavily on” - BAMIGBOSE, Johnson Olawale. "Asiwaju Bola Tinubu Political Elite Status in Nigeria: Emergence and Maintenance."

Not only was he building people, but he was also slowly introducing his ideas of what a nation should look like and run.

Remember when I said that Asiwaju was good at raising funds? There’s evidence that he has been the one financially stewarding the political party he belongs to over the years, starting from the Alliance for Democracy (AD), Action Congress, Action Congress of Nigeria, and All Progressives Congress (APC).

In 2023, Tinubu decided to run for the presidency, having done the background work and gained the support of his political party.

After sweeping through his Twitter, I discovered that Tinubu ran in-person campaigns in almost all 36 states in Nigeria. To be more specific, he held campaigns in Edo, Kano, niger, Kaduna, Bayelsa, Ebonyi, Warri, Jos, Ondo, Arewa, Adamawa, Yobe, Enugu, Kwara, Bauchi, Jigawa, Ogun, Zamfara, Akwa Ibom, Anambara, Cross River, Osun, Ekiti, Nasarawa, Katsina, Kogi, Gombe, Imo, Rivers, Oyo, Borno, and finally Lagos. These campaigns were not small, it attracted massive crowds.

Some of his manifesto read:

(This is important to compare with the current state of the economy).

Economy:

• A GDP with nothing less than 6% growth by budgetary reforms: stimulating the economy without increasing inflation.

• Focus on industry and manufacturing to build an economy that produces more of the items we need.

• More accessibility and affordability of electricity by doubling power generation.

• Employment opportunities for youths. In his own words, “one million jobs”.

• Review the corporate tax system and deploy technology and effective policies to earn more revenues for the federal government.

• National security: Introduce modern doctrines and practices to better engage and defeat terrorists, kidnappers, and bandits.

On March, 1 2023, with the whole of Nigeria glued to either their phones, televisions, or radios, Tinubu was pronounced the winner of the presidential election, to the shock of many Nigerians who thought the majority stood by Tinubu’s opposition, Peter Obi.

Post 2023 - Nigeria looks good!…. on paper.

There’s something we call scaling in design. It’s where you take something small and enlarge it to fit your desired size while leaving the components within it in good quality. That’s what Tinubu tried to do with Nigeria. He took his success in Mobil and as a Lagos state governor, and tried to scale it up to fit the size of Nigeria. Sadly, the components within his scale did not emerge with good quality.

I’m guessing you were around when the president gave his historic inaugural speech on May 29th, 2023, most of which was lost on almost every Nigerian, except the words “Fuel subsidy is gone.”

Almost within the time frame of 24 hours, fuel prices surged from N180–N199 per liter to N488–N557 per liter. As with changing the price of any major resource, it had a domino effect on other sectors. The cost of transportation skyrocketed, the cost of running a business increased, food prices went up, and hence, the massive inflation in Nigeria began. Many households that could keep afloat previously started plunging headfirst into poverty.

Arguably, the fuel subsidy removal was necessary for the economic growth of Nigeria because spending “trillions” of Naira annually was a strain on our national revenue.

According to the Nigeria Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative (NEITI), “Nigeria spent over ₦10 trillion on fuel subsidies between 2006 and 2018, diverting funds from crucial sectors like education, healthcare, and infrastructure” - (Mitigating the Effects of Fuel Subsidy Removal in Nigeria from 2023-Till Date.)

In other words, let the people pay the full amount for the fuel they consume, so the government can focus on building other sectors and strengthening our national purse.

In a bid to further strengthen the national purse, as consistent dependence on earnings from crude oil sales failed to accommodate the rising trend of public expenditure profile, Tinubu decided to reform the Nigerian Tax laws.

Remember when I said that the president was good at sourcing funds? His goal is the diversification of the Nigerian revenue base so we don’t depend solely on crude oil. Not only is the government taxing every citizen, but it has also increased import taxes on certain items, including introducing new taxes on single-use plastics and some motor vehicles, increased excise duties on alcoholic beverages and tobacco, and reaffirmed excise duties on telecommunications services.

Despite the government’s efforts to increase our national revenue, the data says otherwise.

From the data, it shows that the only thing progressing is the Nigerian government expenditure, with Nigeria’s inclination to borrow and spend money on things that are not vital to the enhancement of our economy.

The government didn’t just stop at removing fuel subsidies and imposing new tax laws; there has also been a hefty attempt to attract foreign investors into our oil and gas, energy, and agricultural sectors. The government has also been making attempts at empowering and rebuilding our petroleum resources. Partnerships and contracts have been flying around, and the president is hardly ever in the country in pursuit of these investors.

Let’s talk about the insecurity, the wound in every Nigerian’s heart that keeps re-opening.

In an academic study on Crisis economy and insecurity in Nigeria: The political economy of violence and economic decline, It says;

The economic repercussions of insecurity are stark. In 2020 alone, Nigeria lost approximately $40.6 billion in foreign investments due to escalating violence and instability. Agriculture, a sector contributing 25.9% to Nigeria's GDP, has been severely disrupted, with farmers abandoning their lands due to attacks and extortion by armed groups, leading to increased food prices and inflation. The displacement of over 2 million people due to extremist violence has further strained resources and humanitarian efforts, and the oil and gas sector, in particular, has seen significant revenue losses due to theft and mismanagement, with an estimated $10 billion lost annually.

This report dates to 2020, and if anything, the report on insecurity in Nigeria has further increased six years down the line.

What has this current government done against insecurity?

Apparently, there has been a closed-door meeting with the president of France, and France agreed to supply military equipment and training to Nigerian forces battling insurgency in the North-East. How long this would take, or how sufficient it would be, is under scrutiny.

I might not have spoken about the electricity, unemployment, or corruption levels. I may not be able to go into all the details of the current government in Nigeria, and will only mention the policies that have widely affected the masses.

I am not for the current government, nor am I against it, until I have done my due diligence in research on the opposition party to know who deserves my vote. If you want to see the research on the opposition party, kindly stick around.

But the question I propose to Nigerians is: Should we wait and see the current government finish an eight-year tenure, enough to reap the fruit of it, or should we seek another government that would wipe away the current “progress” and impose its own?

If you’ve gotten here, I would really love to know what you think.

Till next time,

The rest is not history but future. Our future.

Footnote.

This is my new Substack publication, “The rest is future” where I talk about politics, technology, faith, books, etc. If this is something you’re interested in, kindly subscribe.

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God is not afraid of your insecurities. When God gave you that dream or vision, He already factored in the insecurities that your environment might have developed in you.

Upon the revelation of God is the revelation of who you are.

If you’re searching for yourself, deeply searching for yourself, I think this is a place to rest. Rest here.

I was fellowshipping when it hit me that almost everyone who had an identity crisis that God used, God first made them see themselves as He sees them.

When the angel of the Lord appeared to Gideon as he was threshing wheat in the winepress, His greeting to Gideon was “The Lord is with you, you mighty man of valor!”

Gideon was so taken aback that he told the angel that he was the least of the least, his clan was the weakest in Manasseh, and he was the least in his father’s house. He was like, “Who dash me mighty man of valor title”.

This didn’t stop the Angel (God is not afraid of your insecurities), He went on to tell Gideon all he would accomplish for the Lord.

God first shows you who you are before Him. He invites you to peep through a different lens than yours, a higher lens, the creator’s lens.

The first time Peter identified Jesus as the Christ was also the first time Jesus told Peter about himself. When Peter told Jesus that He was the Christ, Jesus told Peter, “I also say to you that you are Peter (meaning rock), and on this rock I will build My church, and the gates of Hades shall not prevail against it.”

I think this revelation to Peter about who he was in the eyes of Jesus might have helped him to get back on his feet when he betrayed Jesus.

When the word of God first came to Jeremiah, it told Jeremiah who he was before God. God had to shape Jeremiah’s mind so he could see himself how God sees him because Jeremiah was quick to point out his insecurity.

God told Jeremiah, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you; Before you were born I sanctified you; I ordained you a prophet to the nations,”

To which Jeremiah replied that he was only a youth. God called him a prophet, he called himself a child.

I think Moses is one of my favourite characters with insecurity. When God met Moses on the burning bush and told him that he would deliver the children of Israel, Moses asked question after question.

Moses first said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh?”, Then he went on to ask, “Who shall I then say sent me?”

Even as God kept revealing Himself to Moses, Moses asked, “But what if they don’t believe me or listen to my voice?”

And even when God performed a miracle before Moses, Moses still said “O my Lord, I am not eloquent, neither before nor since You have spoken to Your servant; but I am slow to speech and slow of tongue.”

God had to pause. He probably looked at Moses like, “Who is this problem child?”

Then God said to Moses, “Who has made man’s mouth? Or who makes the mute, the deaf, the seeing, or the blind? Have not I, the Lord? Now therefore, go, and I will be your mouth and teach you what you shall say.”

Even with this, Uncle Moses still told God to send someone else oh; this was where God got angry with Moses.

I believe moses’ tongue and slow speech would have loosened, had he went and tried speaking. But because Moses did not believe God’s revelation to him, God ended up using Aaron’s tongue and Moses’ presence instead.

I can’t help but see myself in Moses, asking question upon question. Doubting the dream in my heart. But I still remember the day God revealed who I was before Him; it changed everything.

So maybe the insecurity in your life still persists because you haven’t seen yourself the same way God sees you. You can rest here.

Rest in the fact that God sees you, and he won’t resist using you because of your insecurities. He would call you higher when it is time, to see yourself the same way He sees you.

Till next time,

Love and Light from a girlie learning to rest here.

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I sat so long with myself that I thought through a childhood trauma, and found solutions, that’s a topic for another day. I was bored, I was really bored. And the worst part? There was no power for most of the time (Nigeria!!!).

So I read, I worked on a project, I cleaned, I cooked, I listened to music, I listened to podcasts, I journaled, I slept, then I read some more. Still, there was so much time for me to stare into the abyss and wonder why I was doing this.

I realised something on the second day of touching grass. The world moves at lightning speed. So quickly that I think we’re losing what makes us human, we’re heading towards dystopia, and dystopia may look like high efficiency without humanity.

What makes us human? Our ability to form a community, to connect. Our ability to think, and our emotional intelligence. Everything that makes us human in a deep and satisfying way is being threatened.

Let’s start with our ability to connect. I know you’ve heard this before, but we’re the most connected generation in the whole of history, and yet the most lonely. People in our generation have actually died from loneliness, and yet, my mother told me of stories when she casually visits neighbours’ houses during Christmas, and was always warmly received. What happened to that world?

On the second day of my isolation, I realised that no one had called me except a colleague who wanted me to send her some work documents. Was my relationship with people so insignificant that nobody questioned my absence? I did post that I was offline on my status, but I expected people to care. Mind you, I did this experiment on a public holiday where everyone was sure to be home. I probably received check-in texts (which I didn’t see), but not one single call, even from home. I know I’m not very social, but I was still shocked by this discovery.

Everyone has adopted a surface-level communism of viewing people’s status and posts; we don’t even realise how individualistic we’ve gotten.

There’s an electronic billboard on my way home from work that has recently caught my attention. I like to stare out of the window of cars and let the evening breeze blow on my face. My best part is passing the third mainland bridge early in the morning or in the evenings, with the windows down, and the cool sea breeze sweeping past my face.

Anyway, back to the billboard. I noticed that the companies that advertise on the billboard started using AI for their motion graphics and graphic models. You see a human on the billboard, but you know it was AI-generated, and so your emotions cannot sync with the product they’re selling because it feels dystopian. If you’re selling me a dance class, and on your flier is some AI-generated model, my brain dissociates itself because it doesn’t feel human.

I don’t know how best to explain this feeling, but it doesn’t feel human. I, as the consumer, feel like an afterthought. The brand couldn’t put in any effort to connect with its human audience; instead, it outsourced relatability to a robot. What makes a robot a robot is its lack of human emotions. I can’t feel what the poster’s image is feeling, because it’s not human.

My colleague calls me a conspiracy theorist because I believe that some things are just too good to be true. For example, I know the world is changing rapidly, and people are required en masse to outsource intelligence to robots for “efficiency”, but I believe it’s a way to dumb down the population and let only the elite control intelligence (stay with me and my conspiracy theories). Intelligence would be so outsourced to machines that it might one day control and direct the lives of humans who have actual brains in their skulls. Brains that were made to think.

Let’s talk about my field: design. You no longer need a traditional designer to get stuff done. Want an app? Write a prompt. Want a website? Write a prompt. Want motion graphics? Write a prompt. But as much as these tools help efficiency, there is so much brain creativity that would never be realised in the near future because everything would seem generic and shallow, except if designers in the industry learn never to outsource their creativity and use AI as a tool instead.

There are heavy science-backed facts that people who use AI, not as assistants or guides, but as their main source of information and creativity, have less brain activity, less retention skills and ultimately produce average work.

I think AI wipes away culture and history too, but that’s enough; I’ve said too much already. Maybe it’s the result of thinking without dopamine obstruction or just passing around some ideas in my head.

Remember the childhood trauma I spoke about earlier? This is part of the solution. Let me hear some of your conspiracy theories.

Till next time,

Love and light.

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I loved the idea of one person walking into a room you’re in, and the room suddenly disappears. The person is the only one you really notice even if you’re in a room with a thousand people.

Seeing them smile makes you smile, and seeing them laugh makes your heart feel as light as a feather, even if you once carried the weight of the world on it.

I guess the media sold me a lie because as I get older, I desire a more logical type of love. It may not be the loud crackle of a burning heart but it should be like the ocean, constant and assuring.

I want a love that is constant, dependable, open, and vulnerable. A love that includes my heart in its mission, futuristic and fortified. I want a love without butterflies.

It is a love so quiet, that you don’t realize it until you’re knee-deep and can’t pinpoint the little phases that glued part of your heart together.

Recently, I’ve been pouring cold water upon any flame that threatens to ignite in my heart, and I snuff out every smoking flax, because I’ve been there multiple times. I know the flame is just a mirage. It’s like I’m stuck in a loop of my heart bursting with excitement at the thought of a person, only to be left on read a few weeks later.

So I’ve decided that the flames mean nothing and the stillness is everything. The stillness of friendship, the stillness of kindness, the stillness of patience, and the comfort of silence - these are the things that now define love to me.

But with a heart anchored in beautiful burning chaos, sometimes it’s difficult to appreciate the stillness. I dismiss it as boring and out of style. My head knows that I should follow the stillness, but my heart loves the high that comes with the flames.

Until I find the stillness, I’ll keep extinguishing the flames.

Till next time,

Love and light.

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After a few years, I got to a point where I cared only about my friends and grades. Don’t get started on all the drama that came with it. For one, I had a lingering limerence for a guy who treated me like a ghost - I mean literal ghost. We were in the same class and took the same courses but he treated me like I didn’t exist on the surface of the earth. If I spoke to him personally, he never answered, If I texted, he read it but never replied and if I spoke when people were around, he cut me off. The funny fact was that we were once close friends but everything changed one day, and I still don’t know what happened.

I finally became the adult that my mind and imagination had been craving for years - I had been so obsessed about growing up that one day, as a teenager, I told my parents “I want to be independent of you”. Looking back now, I want to cover the mouth of that young girl and whisper “calm down” in her ears.

I began to see the harsh realities of life and my bubble burst. The perfect way I saw the world as a child began to crumble and fall. I saw good and valuable people die from cancer. I saw young people’s lives get snatched by drugs. I saw people struggle with relationship issues, fertility issues, and heartbreak. I saw wicked people prosper and hard-working people wallow in poverty.

I’ve had my share of struggles but the one that hit me the hardest was the financial part of life. Bills fly around like it’s some kind of mosquito looking to suck you dry. The only thing I’m literally not paying for is the air that I breathe and a healthy body.

It’s easy to deal with your own life, but it’s hard to watch the people you love struggle with theirs. Sometimes I wish I had the solution to all of their problems.

There was a time when someone told me about someone else’s struggles, and when I say that I felt like a heavy weight was placed on my heart I’m not exaggerating. I felt helpless - I couldn’t help, even though I wanted to do so badly. I went around with that weight, only for another person to confide in me about something else and the weight increased. Is this the real world that I so glamorized as a teenager?

My heart felt so heavy that sometimes I mindlessly sighed. But, something happened.

While ruminating on the boundless woes of life, I felt something say to me in my heart, “Are you going to carry all that by yourself?” I replied, “No, I can’t carry it.”

I don’t think we as humans are created to carry a lot of burdens in our hearts - high blood pressure and depression are testaments to that. We were made to cast all our cares on the Lord because He cares for us, and wait upon His faithfulness. I can’t carry it, and I won’t carry it because I know someone who can carry the heavy weight like it’s nothing.

So no, I won’t carry it.

When the burdens of life beat upon my head like a desert sun, and when its weight feels like I’m carrying an elephant, dragging me down to the darkest place in the earth - I won’t carry it.

When the people I love are enclosed all around with fears and hopelessness, and my best isn’t enough for them - I won’t carry it.

When all that can be done is done, until nothing else can be done - I still won’t carry it.

Because I know the One who wields strength and I will lay it all at His feet.

Till next time,

Love and Light.

And when my knees hit the ground, weary, exhausted, and blistered. Do not think that I have fallen, for herein lies the source of my strength - Amaka.

I went jogging this morning - the first in over a year. No, I didn’t make new resolutions this year, and even if I did, exercise wouldn’t be a part of it. I guess I just desired more actions than words. I got my running shoes out of the box last night and by 6:30 this morning, I had them on and walked to the street.

After the jog, I felt good because I had been previously discouraged from exercising and encouraged to eat more.

I went jogging for the second time (a week later), but this time, I added some pilates stretching. After that, I got ready and went to church for Sunday services, and although I arrived a little bit later than I wanted to, I felt really good about myself—like, go girl!

That’s a sneak peek into my life. When I achieve success, I think to myself, “You’ve really got this,” and then I ignore any other contrary opinion.

It’s easy to compartmentalize my faith. It’s easy to say Yes God you can have my financial and family problems but you see my career God? I get to run it. I can handle it.

I would literally talk to God in abundance about everything but when it was about my career, I’d sprinkle prayers, God please help me get this job, God please grant me favor before my employers. And that’s when I’m in a good mood to pray about my career.

What I didn’t understand was that my actions meant - I trust you with every other thing, even my eternal salvation but I don’t trust you enough to lead me when it comes to this aspect of my life. Looking back now, I’m wondering where my head was at because that was some fooling thinking.

The thing about God is that if you think you can handle anything in your wisdom, He will let you handle it. No fussing, just letting you go. After going around in circles, guess who you’d come running back to?

To God, this attitude is called pride but guess what? He doesn’t want you to stay far from Him because He hates pride, He wants you to come to Him for help.

That was me, I came running back to God after I received a lot of rejections in my career. But to be honest, in the first place, I really felt deep down that maybe God didn’t care about my career path and so I struggled with talking to Him about it.

But recently, I learned that God is jealous over my life and cares so much that He knows every single strand of hair on my head. What good father isn’t interested in his child's affairs?

He wants to know. God wants to know what you’re up to. So mine was my career, but yours may be your love life, your insecurities, your mental illness, or your financial situation.

Don’t ever think that God doesn’t love you enough to be interested in everything that concerns you.

Till next time,

Love and Light from Amaka.

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God, when my lips no longer know what to ask for in prayer, please hear my heart.

Even though God knows everything about me, I still take it upon myself to tell Him the details. Some days I just sit and talk into the empty space in faith that it's God who hears me.

I've been speaking to God about you for a while now.

Many people can swear on their career that a prayer that God answers quickly is "God please, if they're not meant to be in my life, take them away". One day you're vibing with that person, the next, the person goes MIA.

Sometimes I wonder if my decision to leave someone's life was an answered prayer for them. I guess we would never know.

I pray that prayer a lot too, but there are some times I delay praying the prayer because I don't want God to remove the person from my life, I want Him to make them a part of my life. So I pray everything but that one prayer.

It almost always starts with, "Daddy I think I like this guy", and then I go on to ramble for a while. Then the next time it's "Daddy, I don't know what to think, I don't know if he likes me too". After many more discussions, I come back with tears in my eyes, "Daddy please take away these feelings".

The whole time, I knew deep down that the person didn't belong in my life but I delayed and delayed, praying that a miracle would happen and God would give me what I wanted.

It always ends up with me sharing my one year (if I'm lucky) unrequited feelings with God and having Him know my pain, joy, and sadness. Knowing that God was with me through it all, looking back now, it seems so beautiful.

It's way easier to pray, "God if he isn't the one for me, please take him away". But there's a silent beauty in sharing your life with the owner of life, even if nothing works out.

So yes, I've been speaking to God about you.

About how I'm absolutely tired of going in circles and just need peace, I don’t want to spend my time peeling off pieces of you that would be ingrained into my heart.

I don’t want to walk past you without a smile on my face, and I don’t want my heart to forget the thrill of seeing you. I’m so ready for the adventure of moving from strangers to friends but I also dread the loneliness of sitting alone with God, begging him to take away the feelings.

Although I'm scared this might be the limerence, you've got me spending some of my time in prayer, talking to God about you.

Till next time,

Love and Light from Amaka.

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