what. my. brain. did. on. four. random. june. days.

June got busy. But my brain? busier. #mindDump

Tuesday, 3 June 2025, 21:30pm

Hello, my lovelies.

I’ve started talking to the walls. Literally. It’s getting intense out here. Being a hyperactive, restless soul, practically forced to stay home, is sickening. I can barely hear my own voice anymore, so I’ve started reading things out loud — just to remind myself I’m still alive.

I eat out of boredom. I make random things just to feel something. Even doomscrolling doesn’t hit the way it used to. That’s when you know it’s bad.

Wait a sec, baby — HOW ARE YOUUU?? Did you miss me, because I did. How’s life going? I hope it’s not as bland, boring, and maddening as mine.

Like me was yapping, There’s no one to fantasize about. Nothing to fantasize with. No new obsessions. No adrenaline. Just… existence. Life is passing. I’m not sad. Not happy. Not numb either. I’m just—
sighs
There.

And for me, that “there” is a nightmare.

Thursday, 5 June 2025, 13:44pm  

Hello, my lovelies.

I didn’t forget this time — HOWWW AREEE YOUU, SWEETS?
Tomorrow’s Eid and I’m literally buzzing with excitement! Are you? (If you’re Muslim, haha.) How’s your week been? Did it treat you well? Are you ready for the long weekend ahead?
I really hope your mind isn’t as chaotic as mine lately — sending you peace, joy, and maybe some pounded yam vibes in advance.

I saw a tweet about how Nigerians just follow whatever money-making skill is trending — tech, web3, forex, crypto, repeat. And it saddens me. Nigerian universities, in particular, feel like graveyards for passion.

So many people go in just to study whatever course promises a paycheck. Take Computer Science, for example — I’ve been coding since 2018, and I’ve seen the decline in genuine passion in tech communities. Everyone’s just hunting the next bag. No one’s building fun little projects anymore just because they want to.

Gone are the days of:
“Let’s see who can make the sickest CSS animation.”
Now it’s:
“How much money can you make from that?”

Even the creatives are giving up. I’ve seen people abandon art because “it doesn’t bring in the cash.”

People keep telling me to monetize my blog. “What’s the use of writing when there’s no money there?” they say.

Ever considered that I’m writing because it’s a hobby? Not a job. Not a business. Just something that brings me peace. Monetizing it means I’d owe people content. I'd have to write even when I have nothing to say — because someone paid for it.
It stops being a hobby then. It becomes a job.
And I’m not ready to turn this into something I dread.

These days, if you tell someone you’re trying something new, the first question is:
“How much are you making from it?”

Like… what happened to trying things just because?
“If it’s not making money, you’re wasting your time.”
NOOOOOOO.
The gods of our land, PLEASE, this can’t be happening.
Let people do things for love. For passion. For joy, not profit.

And while we’re at it — can we talk about how everyone’s so scared of being seen as “cringe” now? Everyone wants to be effortlessly nonchalant.
Newsflash: nonchalance isn’t about not caring.
It just means you’re laid-back, chill, not dramatic — not that you don’t care at all about things, people or pets

Sorry I’m drifting. Sighs.

But yeah. Since when did it become uncool to try?
To care?
To be passionate?

LOSERS.

You want to know what's cool? Passion.

Caring so deeply about something that it lights you up. Being so into your craft that you lose track of time. Loving something so much that you do it even when no one’s watching — especially when no one’s watching.

That’s not cringe. That’s magic.

It’s okay to try. It’s okay to care. It’s okay to love things loudly. Don’t let this fake “too cool to try” culture dim your fire.
Be loud. Be soft. Be intense. Be cringe. Be obsessed.
Fall in love with the things you do. Pour your whole chest into it.
Be that person who geeks out over fonts or paints at 3 AM or draws for fun or writes blogs no one reads (yet).

Because the world needs people who are alive like that.
We need people who chase what they love — even if it doesn’t make them rich. Even if no one claps.
Because that’s how beauty is made. That’s how revolutions start.

So if you’re reading this and you’ve been holding back because it’s “not productive” or “not profitable” — I beg, forget all that.
Make the song. Write the poem. Code the weird app. Build the thing. Bake the cake. Animate that video.

Let yourself care.

Passion isn’t something to be ashamed of.
It’s a damn superpower.

Monday, 9th June 2025. 20:58pm

Hello, my lovelies. HOW ARE WE DOING TODAY??

How was your Eid? Weekend? Public holiday? Did you finally get some real rest?

Because I did. Ate like royalty. Slept like a baby. Laughed like a villain.
10/10 — highly recommend.

But now that the cousins are gone and the house is silent again, reality’s knocking: chores, responsibilities, work — all the boring stuff. Sigh. Does it ever end, honestly?

Anyway. There’s just one thing sitting heavy on my chest today, and I need to scream it out loud:

DO. NOT. LOWER. YOUR. STANDARDS.

No, I’m serious. In anything.
Friendships. Dreams. What you expect from life.
The quality of what you allow. The energy you tolerate. The habits you accept.
Don’t do it. You’ll regret it.

That thing you’re forcing yourself to settle for — just to “manage” or “make it work”?
It might become the very thing that drains you. That eats away at your peace.
That makes you ask yourself one day, “Where did I go wrong?”

Don’t whine yourself.
Your peace is priceless.
Your energy is sacred.
And time — like I always say — never waits. Once it’s gone, it’s gone.

You don’t have to lower the bar just because there’s a little bit of what you want in whatever you’re planning to settle for.
That tiny glimpse of desire doesn’t make the whole thing worth it.

Don’t let almost right trick you into staying in completely wrong.

Set the standard and protect it — even if it makes you look stubborn or “too much.”

Want a calm life? Demand it.
Want good friends? Don’t settle for half-hearted people.
Want to create, live, grow, love loudly? Then hold your space — and yourself — to that same loud standard.

Stop shrinking to fit where you’ve outgrown.
Stop accepting crumbs when you know you want a feast.
You don’t have to explain your standards. You just have to honour them.

So yeah. That’s what my mind is ranting on today. A reminder. A rant. A love letter.
Call it what you want.

But don’t forget this:

You are allowed to want more — and wait for it.

Tuesday, 10th June 2025. 21:28pm

Hello, my lovelies.

Quick question — have you ever had a friend crush before?

Like, not the “I want to kiss you” kind, but the “I want to sit beside you and match energies for the rest of our lives” kind? That deep, irrational craving to be part of someone’s world? You see them and your brain just goes:

"Oh my God, I want to be your friend so bad it’s borderline embarrassing."

Yeah. That.

And then, of course, the overthinking kicks in…. the spiral begins.
“What if I come off too eager?”
“What if they think I’m weird?”
“What if I’m forcing it?”

Listen. Enough.
It’s not that deep.
Actually, scratch that. It is that deep — but who cares?

Be brave. Be bold. Be the friend you want to stalk— I mean be friends with.
Send that text. Slide in their DMs.
Say: “Hey, you seem cool. Wanna be mutual weirdos together?”
It’s not cringe. It’s courageous.

(And yes, I’m screaming this at myself too.)

But anyway. Speaking of things we don’t talk about enough…

Let’s get uncomfortably honest about mental health in Nigeria.

Because wow. The silence is loud.

We don’t talk about it.
We don’t ask about it.
We don’t even know what to do about it — unless you count praying it away or drinking sugary stuff as therapy.

I recently read this Zikoko article: “My Husband Doesn’t Understand My Mental Health Struggles.”
And when I say it shook me in some way? I mean I paused halfway to stare at my ceiling like a Netflix character having a crisis montage.

It’s about Fola* — a woman dealing with bipolar disorder after surviving childhood sexual abuse. She went from being a happy-go-lucky kid to battling panic attacks, memory blackouts, and full-on depressive episodes — only to marry a man who initially got it… and then started acting like her mental health was a personal inconvenience.

Like sir?? Please carry your audacity to the recycling bin.

But it’s not even rare.
It’s actually terrifyingly normal.
People walk around with unresolved trauma like it’s a backpack. No one asks why you’re limping emotionally — they just call you “lazy,” “unserious,” or “restless.”

We meme it. We laugh it off.

“menting but maintaining” “mentally, I no exist” blah blah

But no one really knows what to do. And even if you did?
Therapy is expensive. Like, “sell-your-left-kidney-for-one-session” expensive.
And our system? Not built for healing. That one na just vibes and inshallah.

So yeah. I’m not gonna sit here and scream “SEE A THERAPIST!” when the nearest one is 3 states away and costs more than your school fees.

But I will say this: AWARENESS MATTERS
If you’re constantly tired, overwhelmed, numb, crying in the bathroom or zoning out from life — please don’t gaslight yourself.

Don’t tell yourself to “snap out of it.”
You’re not being dramatic.
You’re not broken.
You’re not lazy.

You’re tired. You’re overwhelmed. You’re a human bean.
And sometimes, that’s more than enough reason to slow down and breathe.

Talk to someone. Anyone. Even if it’s your pet. Or your diary. Or your voice notes app.
Find your people.
Your safe space.
And if you haven’t found them yet — keep looking. They exist.

Just say something.
Start somewhere.

And in case no one’s told you this lately:
You are not crazy. You are not alone. You are not broken.

You are a soul trying to survive in a place that doesn’t know how to hold softness — and you’re doing your best.

That’s brave as hell. And I am proud of you!

NB: Thanks for prying into my ever-noisy mind; I hope you enjoyed a piece of my heart. Tell me what you think, and one random thing on your mind right now.