In which I communicate

"I may not be able to give you all that you're used to but I do know that I can love you pass your pain."

The Dott signifies the end, but thank you for always starting new journeys with me.

Honestly, it feels like I haven’t been here in forever. So many times, I’ve wondered if I’ve lost the ability to write. Other times, I’ve blamed my lack of inspiration on the absence of drama. But it’s currently 01:20 a.m., and I’m watching Diary of a Mad Black Woman for the umpteenth time—and suddenly, it clicked. I realized I’ve always had things to say to you. For months, my head has been full of thoughts I wanted to share, but I kept shutting them down.

Last December, I posted a blog titled That Girl Since '99 and someone told me they felt I overshared. To be fair, that comment stuck with me.

One of the main reasons I started this blog was because I have terrible social anxiety. I often have so much to say, but I’m not always the best at communicating out loud. Writing became my safe space. But because of what one internet stranger said, I decided to go quiet. I stopped showing up here. But honestly, all it did was frustrate me. And I realized—I’m doing that thing again. That thing I promised myself I’d stop doing: letting other people’s opinions steer my path.

Truthfully, I don’t even know what I intended to write in this post. It’s way past midnight, and for the first time in a long time, I wanted to write. So here we are. And if you know me in real life, parts of this blog might feel like you’re talking to me face to face—random topic switches, unfinished stories—it might be a little chaotic. I’m sorry in advance.

I recently made a friend—let’s call her Eny. In so many ways, she reminds me of a child, and I mean that in the best way. I’ve only known her for about two months, but I really do love her. For the longest time, I struggled to make female friends here in the UK. I’d meet people and end up feeling like I was doing too much—too playful, too immature, too loud, too unserious, not pretty enough. I even made a friend on TikTok once—we planned to meet, and then she ghosted me. The wildest part? She was the one who asked to be friends in the first place. I cried. A lot.

So when Eny texted me and asked to be friends, I said yes—but with a ton of doubts. Still, Eny’s been good to me. She’s carefree, kind, and she always chooses herself. She doesn’t make me feel like my ugly laugh or weird talk is “too much.” Instead, she laughs with me. She agrees with the madness. Eny reminds me of the best parts of myself—the parts I buried because I thought they were annoying or childish. She reminds me of the little girl who used to dance in the rain, not caring about catching a cold.

I struggle—with friendships, and with romantic relationships. Most times, I stay quiet because, honestly, whenever I’ve tried to be carefree and open, I’ve ended up saying the wrong things and getting into trouble. I feel like I’m too unserious to be anyone’s friend. I struggle with relationships because people say “just be yourself,” but every time I’ve done that, it’s all come crashing down.

But I really hope you learn to love yourself through your pain. At the end of the day, it’s just you and you. I hope you learn to wipe your tears, drown out the negative voices, and always choose you. I hope you never lose your spark. I hope your light keeps shining. And I pray you're surrounded by the kind of love you give.

I don’t know how to end this post—maybe because it’s not really an ending. Maybe this is just a snapshot of my current thoughts: scattered, all over the place, trying to find their way. I’m still piecing myself back together.

So please, stay subscribed. Stay with me while I figure things out.

I promise the laughs will be back soon.