From the moment I first watched a music video on MTV Base, I knew I wanted more from life. Not just the money, but the lifestyle, the freedom, the recognition. The flashing lights, the confidence in every movement of the artist, the beautifully styled models, and the aura of "I made it" made me dream without limits. I saw myself holding the mic, performing to screaming fans, and being the name on everyone's lips. That's where my dream began.
I come from a modest, middle-class home in Lagos. My parents work hard — very hard. We have electricity sometimes, food on the table, and even DSTV during the holidays. I'm not starving, but I'm also not balling. I'm just in the middle. And that middle is a hard place to be when you're dreaming of skyscrapers, red carpets, and Lamborghinis.
My monthly allowance barely covers my phone data and the occasional shawarma. I try to save, but how do you save when you don't have enough in the first place? It's frustrating watching friends post new sneakers or iPhones while you're still managing a cracked Infinix phone. The dream feels close when I'm watching music videos — but it disappears the moment I log off and face reality.
Some nights I stare at the ceiling thinking, "How do I even start?" I don't have a studio. I don't have a laptop. I barely have transport money to even visit people who might help me. It's like standing in front of a locked door with no key, and no idea where to find one.
But the dream won't let me go.
was 2:47 a.m. I hadn't eaten all day, and the last ₦500 in my account couldn't even get me bread and eggs. My chest was heavy, not from hunger alone, but from the weight of bills, shame, and silence. I stared at the ceiling of my one-room apartment in Lagos, the fan creaking like my sanity.
I picked up my phone and opened Google.
"Quick loans in Nigeria."
The search results blinked at me like desperate vendors shouting in a market. "Get ₦50,000 in 5 minutes!" "No collateral!" "Instant alert!" My thumb hovered over the first link. I clicked.
The form asked for my BVN. I hesitated. Then I remembered the landlord's threats. NEPA had already cut the light. I hadn't even told my younger sister that I couldn't send her school fees this semester.
I filled it in. My heart raced. I knew this wasn't the smartest move, It was like God didn't want me to borrow cause he knew I can't pay , Five minutes later I saw a message on my phone loan declined , I shook my head in disappointment .