I don't like numbers.

Lately, I’ve been writing very mechanically.

I think it’s what people call writer’s block, but for almost a month, I haven’t written what I wanted to write. I’ve been writing out of necessity, and I don’t know if that makes sense.

At the risk of sounding contradictory, I’ve written three articles this week that I genuinely love, but I still felt like I wasn’t writing enough. There were so many things to write about, but I was just there.

I’ve written three pieces in the past two weeks, and I haven’t been on Substack as much. I don’t know sef.

This year, I’ve written a lot of random things.

A lot of random things.

I started to feel an obligation to write here. I started obsessing over numbers. I started refreshing my views. I allowed myself to be demotivated by the numbers.

But that’s not why I started writing.

I started writing to document my life and to tell stories, and for the longest time, I’ve been doing that… until I stopped.

This newsletter is a rebirth of some sort.

I have so many of them.

This year has seen a very self-aware version of me, but in a good way. I’m learning how to be privately public—sharing my life whilst still protecting my privacy.

I was listening to DDK earlier this week, and she said (I’m paraphrasing) that friendship doesn’t mean access.

Being your friend doesn’t mean over-sharing, and I think it’s something we all need to learn. There’s a kind of information you feel like you should give someone because you think they’re entitled to it, or because you owe them that access. But not everyone deserves an open door into your life, into your struggles.

It’s not necessarily about keeping secrets; it’s about safeguarding yourself and your space. And believe it or not, it’s one of the most priceless gifts you can give yourself.

A lot of my articles have been scattered, yet organized. I think that’s one of the things I love about myself—my ability to be scatteredly organized.

If organized chaos had a face, I believe it would be me.

Or maybe not chaos, just… a diverse being.

I’m incredibly diverse in the best ways.

I wrote something this week about the Ozoro women rape case—I’ll add it to the newsletter. I don’t know how to explain how much things like this grieve my heart; it tears at my soul. These women had their lives changed forever in a way that makes even the apocalypse seem more merciful.

And it’s terrible how accountability seems like such a scarce commodity in Nigeria.

Today, I listened to Reckless Lover by Paul Tomisin, and it just made me feel loved. It was on repeat for about two hours.

I love how songs can bring healing. It’s a beautiful thing.

There’s also You Are Worthy by Segunfunmi and Femi Okunuga. I’m listening to it as I write this newsletter, and by the time this comes out, I would have listened to it more than a few times. I’ve only listened once so far, but let’s not pretend I’m not already biased.

Anywhere they are praising God or rejoicing in the Spirit… involve meeeeeeeee.

It’s the last day of the month, and I’m excited about what April holds for me. I’m going to be reading a lot this month—a whole lot.

There are also so many events this month, and I’m excitedddd. I’ll write newsletters about all of themmmm.

I think this is the part where I usually say that I love you—and of course, that Jesus loves you more.

Ayanfeoluwa is going to be a force in April.

Unstoppable.

Ayanfeoluwa 🌹