Sally’s Blog

  Who is Salima? She's slightly tall, An 18-year-old standing on her own. Not a great beauty, But a cool beauty she's known. Her smile steals hearts, Innocent and ravishing, it glows. Her dark skin is radiant, Even in the darkest of shadows. An introverted ambivert she is, Loving her space, craving understanding. She sacrifices for others, Sometimes to her own heartrending. Independent she dreams to be, Making a difference in her own way. Yearning for love, yet scared to feel, A gentle soul with fears in disarray. She has one true friend, Always there, herself to depend. With a heart full of love, Expecting the worst around the bend. Salima, the best soul you'll ever meet, A girl with strength, kind and sweet. So who is this girl I speak of? Her name is Salima, full of love.

  After completing her prayers, Salima checked the time on her phone—6:05 a.m. Imran's message appeared, but she resisted the temptation to open WhatsApp, knowing that engaging with him could stir up unresolved emotions. However, deep down, she couldn't deny that Imran's message had sparked something within her. She finally admitted to herself that her feelings for him lingered, despite the heartbreak they had endured. His message seemed to imply a desire to reconcile and build a future together—a path he had always avoided. Yet, Salima remained cautious, afraid of going through another heart-wrenching experience. She knew all too well the pain she had endured when she ended things with Imran. As thoughts continued to whirl in her mind, she carefully selected her outfit for the day. Being a simple and unassuming girl, she opted for a lemon green top, a high-waisted skirt, and a black headscarf. Doubts crept in, and she sought reassurance from Herself, asking, "This wil

  Restlessness consumed Salima once again as she contemplated the day ahead—the beginning of her journey at the prestigious Airforce Institute of Technology in Kaduna. Unlike other days, she awoke early, her mind already racing with thoughts of what lay ahead. With a weary sigh, she turned to her one true confidant, Herself, and whispered about the storm brewing in her head. "It will be okay, Salima," she reassured herself. Collecting her phone from the side table, she opened WhatsApp, the clock displaying 5:00 AM—30 minutes before the Subh prayer. Messages flooded in from her secondary school group, buzzing with excitement over a former classmate's upcoming wedding. The ladies discussed the intricacies of acquiring the "anko" while the guys chimed in occasionally. Amidst the flurry of notifications, a message from Imran appeared. Initially, Salima reveled in her silent victory over their Cold War, vowing never to speak to him again after he toyed with her feeli

  Tobi stared at his mobile phone, his face flushed with anger, as scalding tears streamed down his cheeks. With a surge of frustration, he hurled the device to the ground, the jarring crash serving as an exclamation of his torment. He clutched his head in his hands and surrendered to wracking sobs, the weight of his emotions overpowering him. What was happening to him? Why did he find himself ensnared in this relentless cycle? The pursuit of a lasting solution eluded him, slipping through his fingers like sand. He had regressed once more, returning to the familiar patterns he had fought against. Since the inception of his college days, the temptations of drugs and pornography had slowly seeped into his life. A dark cloud of unresolved trauma hovered over him, stemming from the gruesome murder of his mother—a cherished businesswoman—who fell prey to hired assassins. The heavy burden of guilt weighed him down, the nagging thought that he could have saved her gnawing at his conscience. T

It was a breezy and cool evening. Nurse Zainab paced her study, occasionally sipping from her cherished mug—a gift from her mother on her wedding day. It was the sole precious item remaining in her life, a life now on the verge of shattering like her marriage, crashing into the sea of despair. Once upon a time, Haidar embodied sweetness, gentleness, and love. They met at the teaching hospital where Zainab was interning. She always referred to him as "dreamy," a name that brought a smile before the weight of their current situation returned. Haidar was tall, slightly fair, and had the most captivating smile. He was a comforting presence, always ready to listen. Those were the qualities that made her fall for him—the qualities that seemed distant now. She couldn't forget how he had professed his feelings, bringing tears of joy. But now, his gaze radiated an unfamiliar, intense hatred for her—a change stemming from their inability to conceive. This wasn't the man she kne

Let's face it, creative writing can be downright demanding. It requires you to pour your heart and soul into your work, and sometimes that's just not enough. But what happens when you hit a roadblock? When you're stuck and struggling to put your ideas down on paper? It's natural to feel like you're not good enough or that you lack the skills to succeed. And that's where self-compassion comes in. So, what is self-compassion exactly? According to the Center for Compassion and Altruism Research and Education, it's about treating yourself with kindness and understanding, even when you're facing difficult emotions and experiences. Instead of being overly critical and judgmental, it's about accepting your imperfections and giving yourself permission to make mistakes. And in the world of creative writing, it's an essential tool for unlocking your full potential. Self-compassion can help boost your motivation and self-belief, prevent burnout, and create