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oh, to be the last child.

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In a society that shines so much light on the struggles of the first child, yet barely acknowledges those of the last. I’m going to talk about it. To be the last child is no small thing. You grow up learning to seek permission before doing almost anything. You live with the fear of being criticized by everyone because you were surrounded by people older than you—people whose voices always seemed to matter more. It becomes hard to express your opinions without the fear of being reprimanded or silenced. So you over-explain. Again and again. Just to prove your point. Just to be heard. Because being the youngest has taught you that the advice of the oldest always deserves a seat at the table… while yours struggles for even half a listening ear. You grow up afraid of getting things wrong. Because to you, failure doesn’t just feel like a mistake—it feels like an invitation for criticism. And even when you step into the real world, even as an adult, that fear lingers. “...
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spiritual complacency.

Lately, I have had zero zeal to pray or even get out of bed. I just want to sleep in or be on my phone all day. And let me be honest, it feels comfortable. It feels safe, but the impact? The impact is terrible. I have been very impatient lately—complaining, using careless words, and having very little self-control. And I hate it. But I don’t yet hate it enough to want to change—to put in the effort to quit being spiritually complacent. So, I’m making the effort to change that today, devoting more time to prayer and making Jesus known. This is your sign to stop being spiritually complacent and do the difficult things that will build your faith and bring you closer to God. Maybe we both need to pray and fast more. Nonetheless, I can assure you that it’s going to be heart-wrenchingly uncomfortable , but it will be worth it. Let’s build our faith together and make Jesus known to the ends of the earth.
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my love.

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It’s Saturday night, and everything is starting to feel surreal. It’s been a hectic week, filled with endless to-do lists, that I almost forgot today marks the eve of your resurrection. Thank you to the person on my contact list who shared an image with a soft, ethereal song on her status that reminded me of what you did for me. My sweet love, you chose to die for me even before my mum birthed me. You called me yours. You called me chosen. You said I am forgiven. Oh, how I love you. How you make me want to cry my heart out. How you make me want to write a thousand notes just for you. I love you so dearly, my sweet Jesus. Earth is beautiful because of you. The sun shines because of your radiating light. I cannot fully comprehend the depth of your love. For now, I know in part—but one day, I shall know fully, just as I am fully known by you, my lover. Keep being the Love of the world that you are, Jesus. We are so proud of you. Happy Resurrection Eve, my love. Much love, Your...
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an over-sexualized culture.

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I’m honestly tired of how sexualized music and movies have become. Almost all the time, it’s so hard to find something decent—something inspiring, something that actually teaches or adds value—without unnecessary sexual content being pushed into it. It’s exhausting. Why does everything have to revolve around sex? Can we have love songs that are actually about love? Something genuine. Something pure. Something real. I want to watch and listen to things that leave me better than I was—not empty, not distracted, not overstimulated. The entertainment industry really needs to do better. We need more content that reflects real love, real experiences, and real values. What exactly are we feeding the next generation? We need more wisdom-filled, Christ-centered movies and music that truly impact lives—and still hits. For real. T for thanks 🤍
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2025 wrapped.

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I saw my friend do this and felt inspired, so here’s a little rundown of how my 2025 went: This year, I grew closer to God. I wrote, designed, and self-published my first ebook called  Teens Need Emotional Support . I started a faith-based podcast —  Little Pieces Podcast  now streaming on YouTube and Spotify. I healed from a lot of emotional trauma. I read 4–5 books ( which is wild because I used to hate reading ). I took content creation 10x more seriously and began building my personal brand on TikTok, growing to 90+ followers and a community I lovingly call Little Angels. I took my health seriously after dealing with excruciating ulcer symptoms. I committed to self-improvement — learning how to speak better and elevating my fashion style. After waiting over two years, I finally gained admission into the university. This year, I fell in love with myself — no longer seeking my relevance in people. I met so many amazing individuals who have impacted my ...
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the pain and joy of being a woman.

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“Ada, hurry and fetch water. Clean the house. Wash the toilet. Do the dishes. And make sure you always wear a smile. Never be ungrateful. Be humble. Ada, always respect your elders. Obey your parents.” Ada do this. Ada do that. Until one day, Ada faints from burnout.  Until she grows weary of labor that is never appreciated. Until pain becomes familiar. Until she becomes numb, selfish, and nonchalant. But who will care?  The blame will still rest on Ada. “Ada must always do everything she is instructed to do. She must never complain. She must never let a tear fall.” Omo, Ada is tired. Ada needs love that isn’t a paycheck for the work she completes. Ada needs encouragement for trying, not just correction for failing. So that Ada does not grow weary and lean. Dear girl child, you are a superhero. I know that sometimes society sees you as a powerhouse—one that should never run low—but you are human. The responsibilities tied to being a woman—from household chores to c...
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choose yourself too.

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I know how it feels to care too much. I live it every day. I try to become this unrealistic, flawless version of myself for people. I overwork myself, carrying every burden thrown my way—like lifting 100 pounds of dumbbells with one finger. I worry about being successful in everything: life, academics, even relationships. But I’m gradually realizing that I need to choose myself too. I need to make time for myself. And it’s not selfishness—it’s wisdom. Because imagine spending 24 hours every single day doing and being what everyone wants you to be. I say this to myself more often than is healthy: “I’m supposed to get it right. I’m not supposed to fail.” I keep trying to be what I think I’m supposed to be, but life is far bigger than that. What will I say to God when I get to Heaven? “I did everything people said I was supposed to do?” And He responds, “That’s not what I asked you to do.” Then what becomes of all those years spent trying to be everything for everyone? Let ...
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