Dear Diary, a quiet conversation with God.

July 1, 2025

I woke up this morning feeling… nothing. Not sadness, not joy. Just that quiet emptiness that comes after you’ve cried all your tears and prayed all your prayers, and the world still spins without waiting for you to catch up.

I looked at my to-do list – the deadlines I’ve missed, the emails I’ve ignored, the dreams I haven’t chased in months. I saw the faces of people I used to call friends – the ones who left because my goals no longer aligned with theirs, the ones who stayed because of what they think they gain from me, the ones who look at me and see only what they want to take, not who I am.

And then, I thought of the friends who stayed. The ones who see my weaknesses and call them their own. The ones who cheer me on when I cannot even lift my own voice. The ones who stand by me not because of what they get, but because love is who they are. Friends who remind me that God still walks this earth wearing human faces.

But I also thought of the friends I have let down. Friends I have outgrown. Friends I ignore because talking to them feels heavy. Colleagues I just smile at, even though the smile means nothing. Neighbours I merely tolerate because peace is easier than honest connection. Flatmates I would rather not greet, except when I absolutely must. Friends who demand things of me I cannot give, and friends who do not even know how to stop demanding. And then, painfully, the parts of me that have become like them – my own selfishness that does not know where to stop either.

I thought about the bills waiting for me this week – the subscriptions I need to cancel because I cannot keep up, the groceries I must ration until the next inflow comes, the half-read books on productivity that make me feel guilty just sitting on my shelf. I thought about the skills everyone says I should have learnt by now – coding, advanced Excel, strategic thinking, public speaking, personal branding. Sometimes I feel like I am running late to every table I am invited to, wondering when I will finally become the version of myself I keep promising the world.

I thought about the circles I have outgrown but still squeeze myself into because loneliness feels heavier than shrinking. The rooms where my silence is mistaken for ignorance, when in reality I am just tired of explaining myself to people who have already decided who they think I am.

And in that quiet emptiness, I started talking to God. Not the type of prayer that sounds holy or powerful or faith-filled. Just the truth.

“God, I know I’ve messed up. I know I don’t measure up. I know I’m not as disciplined, as wealthy, as pretty, as brilliant, as consistent, as confident as everyone expects me to be. I know I didn’t hit that milestone. I know I let people down. I know I let myself down.

But… I also know You.”

I paused, letting that last line settle in my bones.

Because yes, some of us come to God with a list: Do this. Fix that. Prove Yourself.
Some of us come to God confused, because we’ve run out of options.
But some of us come to God with only this: I trust You anyway.

I don’t trust You because I am good. I trust You because I know I am not.
I don’t trust You because my plans are working. I trust You because even when they fail, You remain.
I don’t trust You because I deserve favour. I trust You because I know mercy exists.
I don’t trust You because life is fair. I trust You because even when life is unfair, You are still just.

Today is the start of a new month, a new half of the year. I do not have resolutions. I do not have goals to post or motivational words to share. All I have is this simple faith:

That despite my failures, despite my emptiness, despite my confusion, despite how unworthy I feel…
God will not let me fall beyond what He can raise.

I am not asking Him to make me rich overnight. I am not asking Him to send me an army of new friends. I am not asking Him to make my life aesthetic enough for Instagram. I am just asking Him for strength to stand today. For peace to sleep tonight. For grace to keep going tomorrow.

That’s it.

Because sometimes, faith is not about commanding mountains to move.
Sometimes, it is simply about not letting the mountain in your chest crush you before the day ends.

So here I am, God. Tired, messy, overwhelmed. But here. Still here.

And somehow, that is enough.

May this July remind us: it is not by our strength that we stand, but by the quiet mercy that holds us upright when we cannot hold ourselves and I wish you all, who read to this point, an impactful July.

Yours in seeking God,

Ps: I’ve been sharing diary reflections like this every other week. If you’re new here, could you take a moment to read some of the previous posts.

The Holiest Simp – Olú Abíkóyè

The Wisest Fool – Olú Abíkóyè,

How Weak Can You Be? – Samson Had One Damn Job – Olú Abíkóyè