Logged off to touch grass🤲🏿

IPADABO…?

Hi my loves!

Before anyone clears their throat to say “so where did you go?”—relax. Honestly, if I were you, I wouldn’t even say hi back. If I was on the other side, I’d probably roll my eyes and keep scrolling which is fair because I straight up vanished and left everybody in the dark. No warning, no heads-up, no dramatic exit speech. Just “poof!” disappeared, went full witness protection. So let me just say it upfront: I’m sorry. Walahi, I have an explanation. How valid it is? I’ll let y’all be the judge.

So boom,

Last Sunday, I picked up a call from a friend and the first thing he said when I picked up was, “CASPERRR!” If you already got the joke before I explain it… marry me. it’s obviously not my government name. Casper. As in “Casper the Ghost.” Because I’ve been… well, ghost. And my first reaction? I smiled. Not because it was funny (okay, it was a little funny), but because two years ago? That nickname would’ve been impossible. I was on everything. New social media app? I was there before the app even knew it launched. Something happened to a public figure? I knew before the apology video. “Did you hear about…?” I knew before it made the headline. I was ACTIVE! My phone never shut up, always buzzing, always ringing, always demanding my attention. That era is exactly how I developed my “always on DND” habit. Not because I’m mysterious or nonchalant. I just wanted to breathe without anxiety attacks triggered by notifications.

Fast-forward two years later and here I am, ghosting everybody. Yes, yes, I know, “clap hand for Jesus,” yeh. But before anyone starts: I KNOW nobody actually cares that much when people go ghost, and I also hate when niggas flex going ghost. “Going offline for a week, bye guys✌🏿,” or the other one “Nobody should call or text me, going offline for a month.” Ew. Get a grip. At least mine was quiet. I didn’t announce anything. I just left. Quietly. Like a responsible adult… or a dude avoiding accountability. Depends how you look at it.

Now… let’s get to the apology 😬

First of all, I’m genuinely sorry.

I know I probably lost supporters, views, engagement—whatever. But that’s not why I’m apologizing. I truly don’t care about the numbers. Like I said back in season one of this series, I’m doing this for me. Ten views and I’ll still buss a move.

I’m apologizing to the people who actually cared. The ones who read my earlier posts, felt something and thought, “Yeah, this guy might be going through something real.” A lot of you reached out, and I was so locked in on staying away that I didn’t even open messages. So let me say this clearly: I’m okay. The tone of season one? The heaviness? We’re unpacking all of that this season, so please, take a seat, get comfortable. But I’m sorry for worrying you. I’m back now—less chronic, glory to God. So…you forgive me? Yea? Y’all are so sweet… MWAH!

Okay—back to it.

Why was I chronically online in the first place? Why did it feel like an addiction?

I figured it out less than a week after stepping away. The answer was painfully simple. Drumroll please…good guess! I wasn’t happy. Or better put —my real life wasn’t as exciting as the life I escaped into online. And no, I’m not talking about faking a lifestyle for social media. Everything was real, but it was controlled. Curated. Predictable. Online life let me escape my actual reality and gave me versions of myself I could escape into whenever real life felt dull, heavy, or repetitive.

A version where people leave nice comments on my posts—posts I probably made right after crying my heart out to God at church, whispering “God abeg” over and over because my heart felt too heavy for real words (most of them were on Sundays when I was dressed clean and looking spiffy, obviously).

A version where I’m in the boys’ group chat all day, forgetting how heavy life feels, laughter nonstop and jokes flying so reckless that if it ever leaked, olopa ma ko everybody (funny cause I used to think it was exaggeration when people said it but our GC? …Yeah. Enough said. LMAO.)

A version where I could recycle the same smooth lines to five different girls (fine ash, mind you) and somehow it worked EVERY SINGLE TIME. Notifications stacking up like unpaid bills. Dopamine hitting. All of it was just… easier than dealing with a life that felt repetitive, dull, and stuck.

But on my last post, my dad left a comment and they called me (love them both to death). My mom did what Nigerian moms do best—panic first, ask questions later. My dad stayed cool, and we talked—really talked. I told him why I wrote that post, what I was feeling, where my head was. And he gave me one of the best pieces of advice I’ve received all year. He said a lot, but here’s what I pulled from it: live your life. Stop running from it. And the one that hit hardest—stop being a coward to your own existence. No escaping.

No matter how boring, hard, or uncomfortable life got—I had to live it—head on. And if I wanted to do that, I had to destroy every escape route I built. All the online versions of myself I used to hide in had to go. And honestly, I wish I’d done that sooner, because it turned out to be one of the best decisions I made this year.

At first, it was hard. I won’t lie. But I replaced escaping with living. Anytime I felt that itch to disappear into my phone, I replaced it. I took myself out—anywhere. Alone, with friends, didn’t matter. I’d pull up to a friend’s place, spend three or four hours absolutely DISRESPECTING them in FIFA (don’t ask them, they’ll lie—my version is the truth), and suddenly the urge to escape would be gone. I’d go home and… keep living.

That’s how I spent the last few months, and honestly, it’s been beautiful. I really lived

It has been full in a way I didn’t expect. Not constantly exciting, as expected.

I’ve made decisions I regret

But I’ve also made decisions I’m grateful for.

I’ve had good days, boring days, and bad days—and I lived through all of them. None of it was optimized. None of it was staged.

I took risks—like treating myself to a nice restaurant knowing full well I’d walk out BROKE. But I was still grateful, as that, it turns out, was the point. because at least I chose to live that moment. And at the end of the day, this is the one life I’ve got, I don’t get to rehearse it elsewhere or pause it until it becomes more interesting. I can only live it—fully and imperfectly. And if I’m being completely honest with myself now, avoiding it was never going to make things better—it would only have trapped me in a continuous loop of one kind of shittiness after another.

So yeah, I disappeared. But I didn’t vanish—I showed up for myself. And this season? We’re talking about all of it!

PS (for my parents only—if you didn’t birth me, moot!): when I mentioned “girls on the internet,” relax. It’s just an analogy to emphasize the “escape.” Relaxxxx 😭. Don’t go holding family meetings because “Anjola likes women too much.” Thanks and God bless..