Welcome to your life

There’s no turning back

It’s 12:24 pm, and I’m on my way to the pool. The plan is to stay in the water for a bit before heading to guitar practice. Lately, I’ve been making a lot of progress; so much that Mr. Jensen wants us to make a track. Something to remind myself of what I can actually do.

Floating in the water, all I can think about is what happened earlier at the school my NGO visited for outreach. Everything was going smoothly. My colleagues and I gave the usual “Prioritize your mental health” speech, but today was different.

After the session, a girl came up to me. Her name is Zoey. She could relate to the personal story I shared and wanted my help, wanted to know how to get better. And in that moment, I thought to myself, This is why I do it.

I held her hand as we talked, sharing tips that might help. By the end of our conversation, I invited her to a free therapy session at the clinic, you know; the one I co-founded that offers free sessions for teens. I do this for people like Zoey, I thought, taking another sip of my second glass of piña colada.

It’s now 4:14 pm. Guitar practice was fun, but I’m thinking about wrapping it up. I still want to play around, but Mr. Jensen trains me like he expects me to win a Grammy or something. I’d love to just enjoy it without the pressure. I think I’ve learned enough to explore different styles now. Who knows? Maybe I’ll learn the piano next.

My mind plays a trick on me, and suddenly all I can think about is the luggage I have to pack for my work trip to Tulsa this weekend. It’s a writers’ event, and the company I work for has chosen me to represent them. It’s nothing new, I should be used to packing by now. “Lord, help me,” I whisper as I slide the full chicken I just marinated into the oven. Oh, I’m making dinner. Trying out a new recipe I found online. It’s a rich dish. And before you say anything, shhh, it’s my cheat day.

Just as I shut the oven door, my phone rings. It’s my boss. Well, boss slash friend, Olamide. She’s calling to make sure I’ve started packing.“Omo, you’ll have to come help me pack, oh, Olamide,” I say the moment I pick up. “See you! Do you know how many people would gladly take this trip in your place? Ehn, Top Writer!” Olamide laughs, reminding me of the testimony I’m living in, one I even wrote about in my newsletter some years back in 2025. I pause. Thank you, Jesus, I whisper before continuing my conversation.

As much as I don’t entirely fancy this work trip, I do love having to dress up in a different country. Oh, the fashion videos I’ll make! I already have more than 20 inspos I can’t wait to play around with. Thank God it’s a week long trip, enough time for my fashion shenanigans, which, somehow, have gained over 500K followers on Tiktok. Even Charles Metcalf reached out to share his love for my OOTDs. The Charles Metcalf!

Oh, how I love my movie-scene life.

In reality, it’s 10:58 p.m.

I just got home from school; an eight hour journey that drained me. I lay on this bare mattress, covered with the same sheets I’ve slept on since I was six. Staring at the ceiling, I write this.

All I can think about is the life I want, the one i dream about and imagine so vividly that it almost feels real. The one I may never get.

I saw this thought provoking post earlier this week, and it reminded me of the singularity of life. Just one. Just one life.

You see, I may not be a writer or an NGO owner in this life. But whatever I end up as… it is still my life. Like the post said: there’s no turning back.

Instead of sulking over what I don’t have, I’m learning to love what I do, regardless of where i’m at. Pina colada or kunu, fashion genius or not, writer or not.

Please don’t get me wrong, I’m not settling. I’m just choosing to love this life while I work toward the one I truly want.

However close I get, I want to love every stage, every era, every phase of this journey.

My one single life.

See you next week, hopefully. xx :)