Jamilu Shehu Ashaka, words can't begin to explain the depth of pain that i feel at the moment. Sometimes, i wish my phone rings and it is your name on the screen. I hopefully want it to be a lie. I fainted when i heard of your death. I couldn't believe you died without a goodbye. The 28th of May, was the day i heard of your demise. I wanted it to be a lie, a stupid joke until i truly saw your grave. I won't forget you my dear friend. You were more than a brother.You looked out for me, even those days when i piss you off, you still come back & i wonder if anyone can do that for me. You my friend remained my hero until your painful demise.
Sometimes you read some stories & laugh off with the thoughts that it is a fiction of someone's imagination. You aborted 14times for one man& you still think its all fun & fantasy? Who do we blame? Read her story.
I never truly left. I just stopped prioritizing writing. And honestly? Life happened. But somewhere between the chaos, the responsibilities, and the constant becoming… I grew. The last 11 years have been filled with more change than I could have imagined. I became a mum to three children. Three! Can you believe that? I even have a pre-teen now. In many ways, I never stopped writing. I just started writing differently. My thoughts found their way into tweets, Instagram captions, and quick reflections tucked into the rhythm of short-form content. It felt easier. Faster, more in sync with the world's shrinking attention span and endless appetite for visuals. And for a while, that was enough. But deep down, I missed this. I missed the stillness of long-form writing. The space to think slowly. To feel deeply. To escape the thoughts in my head. I missed having a place where my thoughts didn’t need to fit into a caption, a carousel, or 280 characters...
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