HAPPY NEW YEAR or WHATEVER YOU MUGGLES CALL IT

What’s on my mind? Well, grab a seat, get comfy, and let me speak my truth, because right now, it’s far from clean. And no, I don’t mean “dirty” in a fun, playful way—though I’d absolutely love that. But nah, this dirt on my mind is the type that comes from the weight of all the hate I’ve been holding in, the urge for revenge that’s been simmering like a pot on high heat, and most importantly, the sadness that’s been giving me the side-eye all year long.

But let’s not stay there. I’m not a sad person, so let’s move on. You already know me, so you know what it is: vengeance is of the Lord, but since I’m His daughter, I’ve got that vicarious liability energy. If you’re new here, hey, I’m Morenike sometimes, Barakah all the time. And I promise I’m not this dramatic in real life. Or am I?

First thing I learned this year is just how much people love to take me for granted. I mean, if there was a unit of measurement for that, we’d be using “Barakahs” by now. I’ve been disrespected, irritated, angered, and disregarded so much this year, I feel like I need a neck brace for the whiplash. The consistency of it all had me shook—like, I almost expected it to show up with a “Hello, Barakah” every time. So, I did what any sane person would do: I got meaner. And no, not the “ugh, I’m too tired for this” meaner—like the “if you disrespect me one more time, I’ll block you with the same energy I use to cancel my gym membership after two days” kind of meaner. I blocked people like I was running out of block buttons. Especially the ones who ghosted me last year only to pop up this year like nothing happened. I blocked them so fast, I think I could’ve entered the Olympics.

I also got real with a wannabe boss (who was dumb as a bag of rocks), and when I spoke up for myself, I got bullied for it. So I resigned. Yup, I decided that if my parents wouldn’t let anyone talk to me that way, I’m not letting anyone else do it. I don’t care if you’re my boss or my mom’s friend’s cousin twice removed. No one talks to me sideways. It’s in the contract.

Did I try to undo the meanness? Yeah, I did. I attempted to go back to sweet, happy little Barakah. But then, I realized something: part of me was kind of enjoying being firm. I was like, “Ohhh, so this is what it feels like to have a backbone.” My friend Oyinkan says, “You need to be wicked. You let people take you for a fool too much.” So I took her advice to heart. I handled a situation recently in the way she would’ve—no hesitation, no second-guessing. I could hear her cheering me on from the sidelines.

But the biggest lesson? Putting myself first. I didn’t do it this year. Not at all. If I had, half the disrespect I went through wouldn’t have even made it past my door. But I’m leaving that behind. This is a new year. I’m going to be a little selfish this year… like the type of selfish who cancels plans because I’m too busy watching Netflix alone with my snacks.

On a serious note, I either need to find a life partner this year (man, woman, tree—I’m open) or I need to get myself an Alexa. Because listen, I spent most holidays this year alone—except for my birthday, of course. And even then, I had to drag myself to my own party like a kid who didn’t want to go to school but had to anyway. So yeah, either a partner or an Alexa. I’m not picky, just not trying to be alone forever, you know?

Now, this might be my shortest post ever, and the first one where I didn’t tell a story about how I got into some mess. But I’ve got a couple of highlights: First, I got my first big girl apartment this year! And even though it’s not yet the Pinterest dream home I envisioned, it’s mine, and I’m proud of it. The next step is figuring out how to decorate without turning into a full-on hoarder.

Second, I got the most ridiculous proposal this year. Someone from my past sent me a “deadline” to consider them—not as a boyfriend, not as a husband—but as a baby daddy. I laughed so hard, I almost choked on my own sarcasm. As long as hospitals continue to provide birth control, I’ll never have a child with a man who hasn’t even put a ring on it.

Now, I’m not here to wish you a Happy New Year—my daddy will probably read this and say, “Why are you so stuck in your ways?” But honestly, I’d rather say “happy revival” (because Kaos almost gave me a heart attack, and I low-key wanted to sue them for wasting my time). 2025 is all about reviving my life, revamping my career, and shedding any extra weight—physically and metaphorically. I’m talking about the weight of people who think they can waste my time. Bye, Felicia.

If you have to deal with me this year, here’s a couple of things to keep in mind:

• If you’ve heard that I was a sucker or gullible, they weren’t totally wrong. But it’s aura for aura now. I don’t give out free passes anymore.

• If you’re a regular, welcome back to my undying love. Like, literally. You’re stuck with me.

• If we fell out, please don’t text me with some “Happy New Year” nonsense. The number one rule in my house is: if you leave, make sure it’s “alo rami rami.” Don’t try to come back for the leftovers.

• If you’re new here, welcome to BarakahLand. Buckle up, because it’s going to be a bumpy, hilarious ride.

To my Snapchat friends and subscribers: I’ll still entertain you with my pretty face and funny words for free. You’re welcome.

To my Twitter, lmao, let’s do this again this year. Same energy.

Instagram, fix your algorithm. For real.

The Weeknd (won’t be calling him that next year) is still the greatest artist in the world. But thank you, Kendrick Lamar, for dealing with that lightskin housewife for me. You’re a real one.

Until next year, drink water, kiss your friends, spend New Year’s Eve with your loved ones, and remember to come correct this year. I don’t have time for nonsense anymore.

Love and Light (and Amala, of course).

2024 Barakah out.