Dearmicky

@davido Lowkey?

Can’t lie that new Mr p lowkey 🔥

@john322226 Is that a coincidence?

Christian Eriksen first collapsed on the pitch happened on June 12, 2021. Another one just happened today “June 7, 2026” June again???

One thing Nigerians will never lack is Plan B. The economy creates it for us automatically.

@Amaka_power Not me

Who else still eats this?????

@abazwhyllzz Interesting

Young John spend $96k(131 million naira) on a Rolex watch and diamond earrings. Music money too long,omooo😳💰🙌🏻

The patient dog seeing the fattest bone and suddenly developing trust issues whenever another dog comes close. 😭😂

She Never Existed — Or Did She? A true-feeling story that will make you question everything Lagos, 2019. Daniel Adeyemi was 31, recently promoted, and thoroughly tired of dating apps when his cousin dragged him to a small birthday party in Lekki. He almost didn’t go. He was tired. He had a presentation Monday morning. He didn’t feel like pretending to have fun around people he barely knew. But he went. And that’s where he saw her. She was standing near the window, holding a glass of wine she wasn’t really drinking, laughing at something someone said — but her eyes were somewhere else entirely. Like she was present and distant at the same time. Her name was Adaeze. She wore a white dress. Simple. No heavy jewelry. Just small gold earrings that caught the light when she turned her head. Daniel didn’t approach her immediately. He wasn’t that kind of man. He watched her for twenty minutes, convinced himself it was a bad idea, then walked over anyway. “You look like someone who also didn’t want to come tonight,” he said. She turned and looked at him — really looked at him — and smiled slowly. “Am I that obvious?” They talked for four hours straight. By the end of the night, he had her number. By the following weekend, they had their first date — a quiet restaurant in Victoria Island where they closed the place down without realizing it. She was unlike anyone he had ever met. Adaeze was 28, she told him. Originally from Enugu. She worked in interior design, loved old Fela records, hated social media, and had a laugh that started silent — shoulders shaking first — before the sound came out. She didn’t have Instagram. No Twitter. No Facebook. “I just don’t see the point,” she said. “Real life is more interesting.” He found that refreshing. He should have found it strange. They dated for eight months. Eight months of Sunday morning markets and late-night phone calls. Of her falling asleep on his couch during movies and him covering her with a blanket rather than waking her. Of small arguments about nothing and long conversations about everything. She met his mother once. His mother liked her — said she had “old soul energy.” He was falling in love. Properly. The kind that reorganizes your priorities without asking permission. There was only one thing that nagged at him. He had never met her family. Every time he brought it up, she deflected gently. “Soon. My family is complicated. Give me time.” He gave her time. He also noticed she never stayed past midnight. Not once. And sometimes, mid-conversation, she would go very quiet and look at him with an expression he couldn’t name. Not sadness exactly. Something closer to longing. Like she was memorizing him. He thought she was just private. Guarded. He’d dated guarded women before. He waited. Then one Saturday she didn’t show up. They had plans — a drive to Ibadan to see an art exhibition she’d been excited about for weeks. He waited an hour. Called her number. It rang out. Called again. Same thing. He wasn’t panicked yet. Lagos traffic. Phone died. Any number of explanations. He texted: “Hey, are you okay?” No response. By evening, mild concern became something heavier. By the next morning, the heaviness had a name: fear. He called every number he had for her — just the one, he realized. He had only ever had the one number. He didn’t know where she lived. She had always come to him, always met him places. He had asked about her apartment twice and she’d said “soon, it’s a bit of a mess” and laughed it off. He knew her name, her laugh, her favourite song, the way she took her tea. He did not know her address. He found the birthday party host — his cousin’s friend, Temi — and asked about Adaeze. Temi’s face did something strange when he said the name. “Adaeze who?” Temi asked carefully. “The woman I met at your party. White dress. Standing by the window. We spoke for hours—” A Thread 👇👇👇

@gunwoo0110 学習して先回りしてるのは普通に偉い

もう失敗は許されないからTwitterで事前対策してて偉い

@aweidadesu 離れてみて初めて見える関係もあるから、悲観しすぎないでほしい。

私の両親は喧嘩の時以外会話してるところ見たことなかったから私が自立したら離婚するのだろうと思ってたけどいざ自立した途端なんか二人きりでおでかけとか行ってるらしい、その時気づいたよ、あの家族の癌は紛れもない私なんだと、よくよく考えたら兄もなんだか冷たかったなぁ

@aweidadesu お父さんとでよかったじゃん 不倫相手とか送られてたらもう

@remember_u7 오버핏 티를 저렇게 활용할 생각은 못 했는데 예쁘다

오버핏 반팔을 이렇게 반치마처럼 활용하는 맛 예쁘다

@pdalsang Quite interesting

호랑이개어렵네

@mauna4096 @grok please 🙏 translate

@xny5z ここまで出てるのにまだデマ扱いするのは無理がある気もする

これをみてもどうやって信ぴょう性ないデマって言うのかな🎵

@beatdead22 저도 이 답이 맞는 것 같은데요? 정답이 뭔지 궁금하네요

이거 맞게쓴거같은데 이거외에 다른답을생각할수없는데 정답이뭔가요??

@vellichor002 진짜 예상도 못 한 전개네

뭐임? ㄷㄷ

@vellichor002 처음 보면 그렇게 반응할 만함ㅋㅋ

@RS131072 言われなかったらマイクラって気付かないレベル

ほんまにマイクラかあやしいだろ

@wan_1xq デビュー組じゃなくてもあそこまで話題になるのは稀だった。

無印派生の話をすると当時のORβIT（半分以上ファイナル落ち）の勢い、JO1超えるんじゃないかって恐ろしかったもんなー😔

@wan_1xq あの頃のORβITの熱量、本当にすごかったよね