Fike's Corner😊

There's this girl I know. A really sweet girl who wants a man. A man who would love her for who she is. A man who would tolerate her little bits of craziness and still find them adorable. A man she could talk to for hours about her day without him getting tired of listening. She said he would be handsome. Fit physically. Fit spiritually. Fit emotionally. Fit mentally… basically fit in every “-ally” you can think of. He would be patient. Supportive. Hardworking. Understanding. As she spoke, her eyes lit up with excitement, like she had already met him somewhere in her imagination. Then she paused, smiled a little, and said, “That’s the man of my dreams.” And honestly, it sounded beautiful. But as she kept talking, the list kept getting longer. And longer. Until I had to stop her for a second. “Wait,” I told her. Because the truth is, none of us are perfect. And the man of her dreams probably won’t have every single thing on that list. One or two things might b...

  Yesterday, I had a small battle inside my heart. Someone needed money. Not casually.... Desperately . And I had it… but at the same time, I didn’t. Because I was broke too. I kept staring at my account balance 😭, calculating and recalculating. If I give this out, what happens to me? What if I need it tomorrow? What if I regret it? Then a quiet thought came to my mind. “The Bible says giving makes you happy.” Another thought followed: Maybe the money will find its way back to me someday. What goes around comes around… right? I hesitated.... But I gave it anyway. The next day, something unexpected happened. The money came back to me.... Not randomly....Not weeks later. The next day. And not just the same amount... six times  what I gave out. I just sat there like… wow! It really came back. Now, I won’t turn this into a “give and you’ll get rich tomorrow” story . That’s not the point. The point is what shifted inside me. I wouldn’t say I’m as generous as my parents. I watch t...

  I thought I knew the girl who slept on the bed next to mine. She is my junior. Very quiet. Always with her headphones. She keeps to herself and hardly talks to anyone. Sometimes I wondered what she was always thinking about. That afternoon, everyone in the room was asleep. It was very quiet. The fan was turning slowly. The curtains were half closed. I stepped out earlier to get something, and when I came back, I did not expect anything unusual. I pushed the door open gently. And that was when I saw her. She was standing beside her bed, not expecting anyone to come in. She had just finished bathing. She was completely exposed. For a few seconds, my brain refused to understand what I was seeing. Then it hit me. The body in front of me was not fully female. I froze. She froze too. Our eyes met. Shock. Fear. Silence. I quickly turned away and stepped back outside, my heart beating fast. I didn’t know what to think. My mind was racing. Had I been wrong this whole time?  Was my ro...

I’m Tired!!!!! If “tired” was a person, it would be me. The words “I’m tired” come out of my mouth so easily these days. Almost too easily. Sometimes I even stop myself and think, “Am I complaining too much?” But I’ve realized something. Saying it out loud actually helps. Not in a dramatic way. Not in a “woe is me”😂 way. Just in a real way. Because pretending I’m not tired.....really doesn’t make the tiredness disappear. School has been a lottttt lately. Not just classes. Not just assignments. But the mental weight of trying to balance everything!!!! Trying to be serious.....Trying to be responsible.... Trying to plan for the future.....Trying to show up for people..... Trying to show up for myself.... It’s like I’m constantly juggling, and I’m scared that if I drop one thing, everything will scatter. And the funny thing is....I don’t even have time for the things that make me feel like myself anymore. Reading for fun. Writing just because. Creating content without thinking of deadlin...

  Lately, I’ve noticed something about myself. I hardly ever feel ready before I do anything. I’m not ready to post. I'm not ready to write. Neither am I ready to share. But somehow… I still do it. Most times, I don’t feel confident. I just act first and think later. And honestly, that’s how most of my blog posts happen. I don’t sit down with a plan. I just write when my head feels full and I need to let something out. That’s exactly how my  night shift blog came to be. I wrote it in the morning after work, tired and half asleep. I didn’t edit it or try to make it perfect. I just typed what I felt and left it in my drafts. Not because it was bad, but because I kept thinking I would “fix it later.” But later never came. And then I realized something about myself....I like to romanticize chaos. Not in a dramatic way, but in small moments. Like reading a book during a night shift. Or finding peace in silence. Or laughing about mosquitoes disturbing my sleep. Or turning a stressf...

Let me start with something simple: I cannot leave my bucket of water outside.Why? Because… what if someone poisons it? I know, I know.... logically, no one is going to poison my water. But my brain doesn’t care about logic. My brain is about: “What if? What if? What if?” And then my brain immediately jumps to the next level: “What if they pour that seed… is it poison ivy now? …the one that makes your body itch seriously… into my water?” I mean… I haven’t offended anybody. Not that I know of. But then my brain is like: “What if they meant it for someone else and mistook my bucket for theirs?” “Or… what if someone just carries my bucket away? Steals it? Technically?” At this point, I’m checking everyone’s pots, double-checking my own bucket, and questioning my life choices.... all while everyone is asleep and it’s midnight...😂 What inspired this blog? Funny thing...it's not the bucket of water. It’s 12 a.m., I’m in my room, and there’s a wall gecko chilling on the ceiling. Yes, ju...