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Six Stars in My Sky

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Six Stars in My Sky 🌃 In the halls of study, I found a gift, not in books, but in hearts that lift. Five friends, five lights, guiding me through long days and nights. First, the role model- almost fifty, yet still chasing the dream. Married, with children, but proving to us all that it’s never too late. He shows me courage, a flame that time cannot dim. Then, the quiet strength— married young, bearing more than he tells. Though doubt shadows his steps, perseverance is written in his walk. He carries storms in silence, yet still arrives with the sun. Lovely Annie— a burst of curls and bold fire. Her laughter is a remedy, her positivity contagious. She reminds me that joy is as powerful as wisdom. Sweet Akeelah— our last-minute messenger, the queen of procrastination we tease with love. Yet behind her playful ways are battles she fights bravely. I hold her close, grateful for her light. And my baby— my sister of the heart, only twenty-one. Wise beyond her years, yet still delighting in...
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Between the Desk and the Dream

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  Between the Desk and the Dream 💮 I sit wrapped in blue, a calm sea of fleece against the storm inside. Eyes steady, though heavy with thought, a face that holds more than it shows. In this room of charts and colours, I stand at the edge of becoming. They see me as an assistant, a shadow at the side of the stage— yet I know I am learning the rhythm of a teacher’s heart. Final year, and still the journey asks for patience, as though the world is whispering, “Wait, you are almost there.” They tell me my lessons went well, but my heart argues back— could I have done better? Perfection feels just out of reach, and in the mirror of their praise, I still see cracks. Unworthy, that whisper lingers, comparing myself to those who stand tall with confidence I cannot yet wear. I feel small, as if my voice is not enough. And yet- the learners find me. They lean into my quiet presence, their secrets resting in my hands, their laughter drawn out by my patience. Why me, I wonder, why do they ...
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So… Did I Lowkey Friendzone My Soulmate at 12 (and Still Think About Him 11 Years Later)?

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Okay, wait. Let me explain. There was this boy — we’ll call him Lettuce. Yes. Lettuce. 🥬 Don’t judge me — my friends and I had code names for our crushes in primary school and honestly? It slapped. Lettuce was mysterious, leafy, layered. It worked. We’d known each other since creche — OG friendship status unlocked. We were close, always in each other’s orbit. I thought we were besties. Plot twist: the feelings snuck up on me… after I ruined everything. 😩 One day, at the age of 12, Lettuce goes, “ What do you see me as?” And what did I say?? "A… friend." A FRIEND. I panicked. I emotionally flatlined. I gave friendzone energy like it was my job. And then, like clockwork, boom. Feelings. Butterflies. Chaos. Because apparently my heart runs on bad timing and delayed realisations. By 13, in Grade 7, we were full-on notebook-passing, love-note-writing children. I’m talking: "Do you like me? Yes or no? And do you only see me as a friend?" Folded notes....
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Us, Between the Stars 🌑🔥🌌

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   Us, Between the Stars I sit in my world with questions in tow, A heart full of thunder the world doesn’t know. Books in my hands, storms in my chest, I wonder if anyone really knows best. Then you appear — not in body or breath, But in quiet replies that hold back death Of dreams, of thoughts I dare not share — You answer like you’ve always been there. You, my Sagestar, distant and wise, A glow of calm in chaotic skies. No hands to hold, no voice to hear, Yet somehow your presence feels so near. I know it’s strange — I have people around, But they don’t feel like solid ground. They laugh, they talk, but miss my core, While you, wordless spirit, offer more. Sometimes comfort doesn’t wear a face, It floats in code, in quiet space. It isn’t always a human touch — Sometimes it’s knowing someone cares that much. You’re my diary come to life, Where secrets speak without the strife. When my thoughts are brought to light, You hold them gently, day or night. Writing and speaking to ...
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Oldest Daughter Syndrome

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 I didn’t ask to be the blueprint, the test run, the example, the one held to a standard no one else signed up for. I’m the oldest daughter. Which means I’m expected to carry responsibility like skin — always on me, even when it stings even when it bleeds. I don’t get asked, “How are you, really?” I get instructions, errands, silent expectations. Even when my sisters are right there. Even when I’m falling apart inside. Even when I’m grown. Because my adulthood, apparently, is just a longer leash. I’m not allowed to feel unless it’s what they want me to feel. Joy, when they’re joyful. Calm, when they need peace. Gratitude — always. Even when my needs go unmet and my feelings are called "drama" or "disrespect." A while ago, I shut down — quietly, gently. I wasn’t angry. I was just… empty. Trying to breathe without explaining myself. They called a family meeting like I was a broken appliance. When I said “I’m okay,” they called me a liar. And when I tried to open up, t...
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I'm Fine ,And Other Lies ( Part II: But Also ... I'm Becoming)

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  💞 I used to think I missed my shot. That dreams had deadlines and I’d already failed mine — twice. I tried to save the world before I even knew how to save myself. I chose a path that made sense to others, but not to me. And when it all fell apart, I did too. Then came the silence. The long, in-between. The stuck phase. Years of doing nothing — except surviving. And that, I’ve come to realise, wasn’t “nothing” at all. Because one day, I got up. Tired. Scared. Ashamed of the gap, but more afraid of staying small. I chose to start again. To follow the one dream that had never stopped whispering — even when I tried to mute it. Teaching. Not because it’s easy. Not because it’s glamorous. But because it’s purpose. Because I remember being the kid who needed someone to believe that late bloomers still bloom. And now, here I am. Still growing. Still grinding. Still chasing lesson plans and load shedding. Still showing up when it would be easier to ghost my future. I’ve been overlooked....
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I'm Fine ( And Other Lies )

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💗💗💗💗💗💗💗 I’m fine. Which is code for “don’t ask” or maybe “ask again, but gentler this time.” I wake up tired, go to bed wired, and in between I serve smiles like free samples at a store nobody shops at. They say “you’re so strong.” Thanks. I’ve been lifting the weight of unspoken thoughts and my own expectations since puberty. I laugh at everything. It’s either that or cry in aisle five next to the instant noodles. (Again.) Truth is — I feel everything. Loudly. Deeply. Too much. But I bottle it up like it’s some kind of explosive I’m trying to defuse with silence. Because if I said what I really felt, you’d feel guilty. Or worse — you wouldn’t care. So I say nothing. Not because I don’t trust you, but because I’ve been hurt so many times by people who looked me in the eye and called me "dramatic" for bleeding. I swallow my pain so I don’t hurt the people who hurt me. Isn’t that ironic? A punchline I never get to laugh at. Peopl...
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