The Curse Of Truth: What Is Your Truth? 

Every story have got two sides to it, and it is not about which of it is true or false. Every coin have got two different sides to it, and this is not about choosing which side is the head or tail. Every day have got two parts to it, and this is not about the reality of the morning and evening, but in all, it is a question of what you believe.

Don’t get too confused over this because, believe me, life is very simple. And as crazy and unexperienced I may seem right now, the fact is every story has two sides to it, and they are your truth and the other truth. No lies involved.

Okay, let’s see.

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What If Our Words Were Numbered? 

Have you ever wondered what it would be like or how it will feel like if you suddenly wake up one day to the reality that you have only a hundred (100) words to use for each day of your life?

Take a moment to think.

And it doesn’t just stop there. At the end of each day, you must give a report to someone of how you made use of the 100 words allocated to you.

Crazy right?!! Yea, I know, but think about it for a moment.

Now, the question is, What Will You Say?  Continue reading

2017.

If you are reading this, then it means I am most grateful for your being alive to see a new day, a new week, a new month, and a new year. 

The past year had been wonderful, and I am certain this new year will be exquisite. 

For all our hopes and dreams, I pray the good Lord smile graciously upon us to bring them to reality and very quickly. 

To everyone reading this, I do hope we have a blissful year. 

Love you all, and happy new year. 

White Nightmare. 

When dreams become a burden 

And passion becomes a curse, 

The kiss of an angel is less desired 

Than the many arrows of the devil. 


What do you do when dreams become a nightmare, 

And the very thing that peirce your soul?  

What do you do when your demons are no where to be found, 

Because even they are afraid of your dream? 


I have no more wars to fight, 

And no more battles to wage, 

Not a thing to hang on to, 

And not a day to look forward to, 

For even my demons do abscond, 

And I am left with nothing to contend with. 


I am imprisoned by my dreams, 

And tormented by my lack of relief, 

I fear not for my now but for my tomorrow, 

For all I have are these white nightmares. 


Who Are You? 

The Sun was quite honest the other day, so it wasn’t a big surprise that the room temperature was a bit warmer than usual, and to top it all, the sea of voices that flowed all around did not help its cause. I had stepped into the crowded room, feeling a bit nervous about being surrounded by so many unfamiliar faces, but as much as I hated it, I found the urge to stay, and if I was staying, I thought, I do probably get myself lost in the myriads of strange faces. Unlike most people, I find solace in my solitude, even though close friends have begged me to explore and connect more often with people, I just find it more relaxing to observe from a distance; and here I was, not too comfortable with my surrounding, but for some other reason, I decided to stay in the midst of the crowded room, remaining anonymous, I sat all to myself.

If there is any question I am afraid of being asked, is the one a young man asked me, probably because he saw how I refrained from socializing with people around.

“Excuse me, who are you?” the young man asked, as his husky voice distorted my thoughts.

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