Diaries: My Imaginary Husband

like an anchor, dragging me down into the abyss of exhaustion. The external auditors' season had turned my life into a relentless march of sleepless nig

ented, feeling the sting of inconvenience as my menstrual cycle disrupted the fragile balance of the morning. "My red badge of ho

diate action. Racing against the ticking clock, I hastened to the bathroom, immersing myself in a hurried bath that lacked the usual indulgence of a morning concert

the impending meeting, only to be assaulted by a blinding light. "I'm not ready to go blind," I murmured, swiftly shutting the device. In my quest for my glasses,

and a sense of unease settled over me. Seeking solace, I turned to the comforting words of Psalm 23, a balm for my frayed nerves. Acknowledging my proficiency as a write

choed from the manager, a lifeline of approval that sliced through the tension. "Thank you for your time," the words hung in the air like a soothing balm, followed by the directiv

espite my introverted nature, I cherished my role and the opportunity to impart knowledge. At times, I found myself mistaken for a

: "I thought we were starting intermittent fasting today, Ohfeefey. Wow! With such zeal and determination, you've once again postponed your intermittent fasting." A twinge of guil

ashed my teeth in silent resentment, memories of toxicity threatening to resurface. Just as the emotional wave loomed, my sister sent a meme that broke the tension, eliciting a genuine laugh. "Metro what?" I repli

ng the flexibility of remote work, I immersed myself in music during my tasks. Being an avid fan of the queen of afrobeat, I played my favorite track, "Somebody's Son," featuring Brandy. The bu