Life and General Fiction StoriesNaija Stories


At times I think of what it would be like to escape all of this; I mean the fast life. The fast lane. My life is moving so fast I can barely be in control anymore. Not that I can’t if I try extremely hard to, but then, there would be no spontaneity, no fun. If I did that I would have to account for each hour of my day. I would even be more miserable. So I indulge myself. Make sure I always, always do the important stuff each day, doesn’t matter the timing.

Somedays, I’m still meticulous. Consciously aware of every passing hour. While I savour the feeling of achievement I get from such days, I think the other days are needed too. But the problem now is, none of these approaches seem to work anymore. I now see myself fighting to maintain the balance, with subsequent results more disappointing than the last. I don’t even get to decide how most of my time goes, the little I have left is caught between just living through it the fun way, or working through it.

How about I combine the two? Okay, a solution to a fraction of the problem.
Now to the larger picture. I’m nineteen. Young, but with a view of the world older than most of my agemates. Though a puerile part of me resurfaces once in a while, you’d hardly know that if you’re not close enough. Sadly, those who are in that circle are few.

I like to think of myself as a focused young woman, with the spoils of the world at her feet. Waiting for her to take the plunder. Standing at a crossroad which used to have limitless paths and opportunities, I find that only one gloomy path covered with thickets remain. Medical school. I’m walking that path. Grateful for the sickle my elder colleagues handed to me, I cut down the thickets as I advance. I’m on a fast pace now, I have to be, if I want to get out of here. Going back is never an option. Once in a while a whiz of opportunity flies by. I want to catch it, but I remember the job at hand. I wonder if I can keep on the pace grappling an opportunity in one hand, and in the other a sickle, clearing at the same time.

I look back, I’m starting off good, but I’m not sure if this is good enough. I have to put in more work if I want to be satisfied. I hear the hum. I see the signs. I know them by now another opportunity, on its way. My path, my journey needs more work. Medical school requires utmost concentration and dedication. But some of these opportunities flying by would only come once in a lifetime. My heart so desperately wants to catch one. Perfect my French, learn the violin, open a small bakery, join the debating society. And so on. So I’m here, caught between the devil and the sea, writing this piece, wanting to know what you think.

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