I just reread one of my old newsletters — Educated Baddie in the Mud.
Educated baddie in the mud 😭
Education is good but educated baddie kai you know that song all my sexy ladies kpa won 🎶🎶🎶🎶Thanks for reading Sansa’s Substack! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.
You could clearly tell I was young, still finding my voice. I was self-aware, but in that innocent, expectant way where life still feels like it’s waiting to hand you good things. I was just enjoying being a teenager, writing from a place of curiosity and unhinged humor. Two years later, I’ve found my voice. And honestly, that’s the beautiful thing about writing: you can see the growth on paper. You can look back and realize, damn, I’ve really been living.
At that time, I was working, and life felt like a very interesting phase. I was also stuck in uni, studying a course I absolutely hated (still do). Fast forward two years, and I’m contemplating going back to uni again, but this time for something I actually love. It’s terrifying — the idea of starting afresh, reading again, chasing another degree. But also, maybe that’s part of becoming. What kills me though is how funny I was in that newsletter. I was unhinged, unfiltered, and I hope I can carry more of that back into my new writing.
Some things haven’t changed though — like my love life disasters. I’ve kukuma washed my hands off talking stages, because at this point it’s like they swore for me. If I’m not the side chick, I’m the one you want to do addictive love with, or the one you tell “we don’t need to date, let me just be with you.” Like… what is this? Ori gbogbo yin ti baje. The comedy writes itself.
And I’m honestly so grateful for everyone who started this journey with me. Two whole years. Wow. Next year will be three, and I’m already planning a gift for my very first subscribers. You’ve basically watched me grow up in real time.
Side bar though — I hate being a trophy girlfriend. With a particular man I was seeing, everywhere we went was to see his friends. Imagine this man literally watching his girlfriend’s throat trap under bright lights beside me like it was some cinema feature. Old people really do the oddest things. And yeah, I know I’m pretty. I get asked if I’m a model every time I go out, and it’s always this mix of curiosity and admiration that feels so sweet. But is that really what I came to this world to do? Just to be shown off? Sometimes I love it, and sometimes a part of me is just sick of it.