Soft Chaos, Loud Mind🫠 (1)

I know it sounds harsh, but I can’t seem to stop myself from saying it that I don’t like people. And I know by now, some of you might be rolling your eyes, thinking I’m just another one of those people from WhatsApp posts who constantly claim they’re sad or talk about having imaginary haters. Maybe it’s even a similar case. But here’s the thing: I actually mean it. I don’t like people like that. And more than anything, I hate the idea of starting to get familiar with anyone.

Because… what do we ever really gain in the end? Nothing. Just another trip around the cycle of misery. You open up, it feels warm, even safe, then it ends. And when it ends, it always ends with me, feeling like the fool. Again.

I’m petty. I’m dramatic. I know I am. But what annoys me the most is how people act like they don’t know that already like it’s news. They complain about the way I react or respond, but I don’t even get the room to complain. I’m always the one painted as the problem. And as much as I try to lie to myself and believe otherwise, a small, quiet voice inside whispers that maybe… just maybe, there’s a drop of truth in that.

It’s 1:07 a.m. and sleep is nowhere in sight. My mind is full, heavy. From Monday till now, more than hundred things have happened, just this week alone. I can’t even lie: June started out beautifully. But it’s spiraling. Crashing. Ending horribly.

And here’s something I rarely say out loud” I have insecurity issues”. Omo. Wild. Maybe it’s part of the reason why I don’t like texting or talking to people. Because deep down, I know what could happen if things go far. I know what I could become with someone… and that thought is terrifying. I am not even talking about a romantic relationship here.

I don’t even know why I’m saying all this now. Maybe it’s the weight of everything piling up. Exams haven’t helped either. I’ve barely read, barely spent 30 minutes on a course. Not because I’m one genius babe. No o. I’m just a lazy ass who’s somehow convinced herself that a second class is “okay,” because a first class feels like a fairy tale. I give up way too easily, and I hate that about me.

But if you ask me what the highlight of my week was? Ginny and Georgia. Yes, the series. I have so much to say about it. I genuinely enjoyed watching it and I couldn’t help but see bits of myself in Georgia. She made some pretty questionable decisions, but still… I understood her. In some weird way, I was her.

I also saw myself in Maxine, oh God. Her intensity, her loud feelings, the way her emotions filled up a room. She was called dramatic, misunderstood, too much. And that hit home. Because sometimes, that’s how I feel too. Just trying to make sense of everything in my head, and to others, it just sounds like noise. Worthless noise. “Too much.”

Isn’t it crazy? How complex the human mind is? We’ll never fully understand it, not even our own. The way things work in my head is completely different from yours, and that’s both fascinating and terrifying. It’s like trying to explain a dream in another language. It just doesn’t land.

Right now, I want to delete all my socials and disappear. Like I usually do. But this time, there’s too much at stake. So I’ll hold on. I can’t promise I won’t still vanish if it gets too loud… but I’m trying. For now.

One thing I am looking forward to? My final year. Finally. I’m excited. I just want to be done. These lecturers? You can’t satisfy them. They expect more than we can give, then swing moods like pendulums. Anger today, apathy tomorrow. I’m over it.

But in the middle of this week, in all its chaos and mental fog, I remembered Feranmi made the most of my birthday. She did something so simple and powerful: she wrote me a poem. And I don’t think she knows just how much it meant to me. The words moved me in a way I couldn’t fully explain. I felt everything at once, laughter, softness, truth, love.

And the name she gave me? Half-night owl. I had to borrow it. no, keep it. It felt right. Like someone had finally named a part of me I’d never known how to say out loud.

Because I want you to feel what I felt, I’m sharing her poem below:

Rumaysah the Riddle

by Oluwaferanmi 😌

There once lived a girl, poetic and wise,

With sunshine tucked deep in her starry eyes.

She talks like she’s walked through ancient prose,

And wears metaphors like Sunday clothes.

She’s a poet, a dreamer, a head full of skies,

But don’t be fooled, she eats all the fries.

She claims she’s composed, cool, and deep…

Yet she giggles like five-year-olds losing sleep. 😏

You’re poetry wrapped in a hoodie and sass,

Throwing shade with class and a touch of jazz.

We talk like philosophers on a sugar rush,

Whispers turn loud, and then suddenly, hush.

“People need to change their mindset,” we say,

And girl, somehow we mean it in every way. 😌

You walk around with that poetic grace,

But I know the clown hiding under that face.

You act like “the world needs to heal and reflect,”

Then trip on your shoe and lose all respect 😭😌.

You’re the problem that my peace can’t fix,

Always stirring up thoughts and wild brain tricks.

You say, “People need to change their mindset,” girl please!

Fix your sleep schedule first, then come preach peace.

You’re two personalities rolled in one,

Half-night owl, half child of the sun.

With me? It’s chaos and late-night debates,

Solving the world with no dinner plates. 🍽️

Happy birthday, villain of my peace 😂💞

The queen of quotes, the chaos release.

I “hate” you, girl, in the best way true

But deep down? You know I’d riot for you. 💅🏽🔥

That’s the beautiful little thing that made the most of my day.

PS:

I’m not writing this for pity or for check-ins. I’m writing because sometimes, the truth tastes better out loud. Maybe you’re also figuring yourself out like me or trying not to drown in expectations, people, pressure, or your own loud thoughts.

If you are, just breathe. You’re allowed to feel deeply. You’re allowed to be a little lost, a little soft, a little chaotic. You’re allowed to rest. To pause. To not have it all figured out.

The mind is messy. Life is louder than it should be. But we’re still here. And that counts for something.

With love,

Rumaysah ):

Quote of the Week:

“Some days I am soft thunder, some days I am silent rain. But always, I am weather worth surviving.”