I won’t be quick to label this as the worst year of my life because, honestly, I have no idea what the future holds. But 2024 has been nothing short of horrific.
I’m not someone who buys into “this year will be my year” talk. I don’t believe in new years and new months as magical resets. I believe in seasons—that regardless of the month or year, you have to go through what you need to go through.
I thought I’d be graduating this year 🙂, but here I am, still in school 🙂. At least I’m in my second semester, and, by God’s grace, I should be done by February, that’s ofcourse if ASUU and Tinubu permit me.
My life is a circus, and I identify as the clown, proudly. I feel like I haven’t accomplished anything this year. My mental health has taken a nosedive, and the future genuinely scares me. Every day, I live regretting not starting something sooner, only to end up doing nothing because my ADHD brain keeps getting in the way. I’m tired of people telling me I have “potential” when I don’t even see it.
I’m scared of doing things, but also not scared of doing things. I’m a living paradox, constantly contradicting myself at every turn. That’s why I stopped posting motivational quotes, it all feels like a lie, even if it feels like the truth sometimes. I say I’m lonely, but I don’t socialize. I say, “Today’s the day I work to be the best version of myself,” only to scroll mindlessly on TikTok. I say I don’t care, but I care so much (actually, I only care when I’m bored).
I’m tired of living like this. Every day feels the same, no difference, no excitement, just problem after problem. And don’t even get me started on this hellhole of a country with its collapsing economy. I can barely go anywhere anymore; the Uber prices are ridiculously high.
Then there’s me, stuck in a city I didn’t grow up in, without childhood friends to help ease the loneliness. I don’t particularly like Lagos, but I’d go back in a heartbeat because, here in Abuja, it’s lonely. I love the peace here, but without my friends, the peace feels like an abyss. I end up looking for unhealthy ways to give my dopamine-deprived brain something exciting, which only makes my mental health worse.
I don’t know if I should say, “I can’t wait for this year to end,” because who’s to say my misery will magically disappear on the 31st of December? Probably not. Maybe it’s better to say, “I can’t wait for this season of my life to be over.” But what season even is this? Last semester in university? Last season of loneliness? Last season of feeling useless? Last season of feeling insane?
I don’t even know anymore. I just want to be released from this emptiness.
RELEASE ME!!!!!!