hi….🙂‍↔️

hi, dearest gentle reader.

Thank you. For reading. For taking up air and space in my ink which has now become my lungs. thank you for understanding my writeups.

Sometimes, I don’t always know what my head processes. Sometimes I open my notepad and my mind becomes a road mad for my imagination to navigate its way into words.

but still…I am here, I am free.

Here, I do not have to worry about my next credit alert or my next life surprise or my next exam.

here, you see me in my vulnerability. And it is humbling.

Yes. This is me being vulnerable. because I learnt far too young that to be a writer, in many ways you must be the killed and the killer.

you must open that heart that has never once bled, but for stories to stump over it over and over again. because sometimes, we are merely just vessels and the stories God gives to us are the real Painters.

Aren’t we all then nothing but Pencils in the Hands of the Creator?

in years to come, I hope my stories still speak to you. I hope my letters still remind you of how wonderfully and intentionally crafted by God you are.

Till then, do not let your dreams die in your notepad. Let them grow wings. Let them take flight not just in your mind, but in echoes of today, tomorrow and always.

Choose action instead of regret😊

Choose self-love first and not last😊

this week, a kind of love poem danced around in my fingertips, and of course, you know me! I had to let my notepad feast!

soooo here it goessss👇

Love can make you do silly things.

Love will have you texting that person at midnight with the weirdest thought.

Love will have you hugging him till his breath evens out and he rests on your chest.

Love will have you saving the weirdest TikTok posts just to send them all to him.

Love will have you giving each other snarky comments one second, yet complimenting the sweetest things the next

Love will make you a poet and an executioner

Everything around you becomes a poem,

metaphors for thoughts that crawl all the way back to him

Yet an executioner...

each dose of syringe kills any part of your heart that could have created space for someone else but Him

And the worst part or best part?

It didn't start all at once

It started with the little things...

the listening ears, the upfront intelligence, the intentional gifts, the little memories of your favorite things, the "still gliding his nose against yours even after a heated argument" moments, the "no matter what comes, we will work it out" moments...

This is how Love starts.