I am not my titles. I am not my roles. I am not the expectations that others place on me.
I am a soul. Deep. Intuitive. Certain. I feel things most people rush past. I notice the pauses between words, the tremble behind a smile, the weight of what is left unsaid.
I carry softness like silk over steel. Strength that bends but does not break. Courage that whispers, “Get up,” even when I am on my knees.
I am the sum of my scars and my victories. The lessons I chose to keep and the dreams I refused to bury.
I am beauty. Not the shallow kind. But the kind that radiates from knowing I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I am power. Quiet. Steady. Unshakable. I am resilience – again and again and again.
I am a queen – not because I wear a crown, but because I rise, I reign over my thoughts, I protect my peace, and I walk with grace, even when my steps are heavy.
I am becoming. Always becoming. More of who I was created to be. More of the woman God sees when He looks at me.
Who am I? I am Ifedolapo Ogunniyi . Raw. Real. Radiant. Unstoppable.
How would you describe yourself to someone who can’t see you?
I am the kind of woman who can slip a joke into the heaviest moment and laugh like joy is my birthright. Sarcasm runs through my veins, but so does the gift of connection – I feel people in deep places words can’t always reach.
My silences are never empty; they are the spaces where I am catching every drop of your story. I am brutally honest, my words cut clean yet never lie. If you seek the truth without a sugar coat or camouflage, look no further – she’s standing right here
My name is Ifedolapo. 😀😀 This is me in summary💕❤️😀
If you had to change your name, what would your new name be?
Coincidentally you know I thought of this today and smiled. Now I retired to my laptop to update my blog and this came up again. I think no name in this world suits me so I created mine with my own meaning which you can never find in a dictionary .
You wanna know? Before I tell you,remember that I originated this beautiful name. 😃😃😃
Olyssiah – meaning (mine)- unbreakable
I look at my life, the many hurdles I have crossed, the betrayal, the pains, agony, sadness, countless attempted suicides …and yay,ni am still standing.
Grudge is a fire that never goes out, It crackles in silence, it festers in doubt. A smile on the lips, but a storm in the chest, It buries forgiveness, denies any rest.
It’s poison served from a silver plate, Fed cold and slow with a twist of hate. It builds high walls where bridges could be, A jail of the soul, but the jailer is me.
It wears a mask – proud, calm, and still, Yet whispers revenge with a venomous will. It’s dancing with shadows, stuck in the past, Chaining the heart to moments that last.
It clings like cobwebs to memory’s frame, Insisting on justice but burning in shame. A thief in the night, it steals peace away Grudge is a ghost that refuses to pray.
Let it go, or it grows, like roots in the bone, Till bitterness blooms and love dies alone. For holding a grudge is digging a grave One for the hated… and one for the brave.
Love is the messy, imperfect kind of magic— The kind that leaves dishes in the sink Because talking until 2 a.m. felt more important. It’s the way your voice cracks when you’re tired, But you still listen, because their words matter.
It’s the coffee made wrong but drank anyway, Because they tried, and trying is everything. It’s the laundry left unfolded on the couch, And the way you laugh when you trip over it.
Love is the quiet mornings, When the sun spills through the curtains, And you notice the way their hair sticks up, And you think, This is my person.
It’s the arguments that end in tears, But also in apologies whispered like prayers. It’s the way you learn to say “I’m sorry” And mean it, even when it hurts.
Love is the hand that reaches for yours In a crowded room, just to say, I’m here. It’s the way they know your favorite song, And play it when you’ve had a bad day.
It’s the scars they trace with their fingers, Not with pity, but with reverence, Because those scars are part of the story, And the story is why they stayed.
Love is the way they remember How you take your tea, Or the way they save the last bite Of dessert, just for you.
It’s the way they cry at movies, Even the bad ones, And the way you pretend not to notice, But you do, and it makes you love them more.
Love is the way they snore, And how you learn to sleep through it, Or the way they steal the blankets, But you let them, because they look so peaceful.
It’s the way they hold you When the world feels too heavy, And the way they don’t need to say a word, Because their arms say enough.
Love is the way they see you— Not as you are, but as you could be, And the way they help you get there, Without ever making you feel less than enough.
It’s the way they laugh at your jokes, Even the bad ones, And the way they make you laugh, Even when you don’t want to.
Love is the way they forgive you, And the way you forgive them, Because no one is perfect, But together, you’re close enough.
It’s the way they choose you, Every single day, Not because they have to, But because they want to.
Love is human. It’s messy, and flawed, and beautiful. It’s not a fairytale, But it’s real. And real is better.
Ifedolapo Ogunniyi 