You used to think life would be different by now.
Back then, maybe at 19 or 21, you were so sure your twenties would be golden. You thought success would find you early. You thought you’d be the one to break the chain in your family and achieve that Dangote-type generational wealth. You even believed that by 25, you’d be married or at least deeply in love with someone who makes you feel safe. Someone you could build a home with.
You told yourself, “Before 30, I go don blow.” But now, 30 is just around the corner, and you don’t feel blown. You feel tired.
You’re not broke-broke, but you’re not okay either. You’re in that limbo where you can’t ask family for money anymore because “you’re old now,” but your account balance is not enough to survive the month without calculating every kobo. You find yourself avoiding events because you don’t have a fresh outfit to wear, and you don’t want to explain again why you’re still where you are.
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You’ve stopped talking too much about your dreams. Not because you don’t have them anymore, but because you’ve repeated them for too long and they still haven’t come true. Every birthday feels like a reminder that you’re behind. Social media doesn’t help, you scroll past engagement photos, career wins, relocation announcements, pregnancy shoots. Everyone seems to be getting their lives together. Everyone but you.
Remember when you were 22 and you thought 25 was old? Now you’re 28 and still wondering what “making it” really means.
You have friends who have stopped trying. You also have friends who seem to be getting everything right. Sometimes, you’re genuinely happy for them. Other times, it stings. Not because you’re jealous, but because you thought you’d be there too.
You used to pray loud. These days, your prayers are soft, if at all. You’re scared of asking for too much. You’re scared that maybe this is your life; that, maybe, you’re not the one who makes it. Maybe you’re just the friend that supports others while they shine.
Marriage? That one feels far. You thought you’d meet someone during NYSC. At Eid. In church. At work. Anywhere. But all your “almosts” turned into “maybe next time.” You’ve seen people marry for love and others for survival. You’re not even sure what category you fall into anymore. You just know you want someone who gets it, this fear, this phase, this trying to figure life out without falling apart.
Sometimes you want to run. To leave everything and start somewhere new. Maybe Canada. Maybe just a quieter place. But then again, you don’t have money to move. You don’t even have a passport that hasn’t expired.
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Still, you wake up. You try. You apply. You write. You pitch. You sell. You save. You dream, even if it’s just quietly before bed. Because deep down, you still believe, somehow, one day, it will all come together.
You hold on to the little wins. You remember how far you’ve come, even if it’s not where you want to be. You laugh with friends who get it. You share memes that say what your chest is too heavy to speak. You give advice you wish someone would give you. You love in pieces, hoping one day it will be whole. You stay alive. You keep going.
Because even though 30 is around the corner, and nothing is “showing” yet, you’re still becoming. Perhaps, this – becoming – is the whole point.
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