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Between Payday and Dreams
<p><em>Salary ends in one week, but the month stretches like three. Still, she shows up. Still, she becomes. Do you feel this?”</em></p><p><em><br/></em></p><p>Every… morning… felt like war.</p><p>Not the kind with bullets,</p><p><br/></p><p>but the kind every young woman knows—</p><p>that fight between who she is,</p><p>and who she… is becoming.</p><p><br/></p><p>The windows of her heart</p><p>led her legs</p><p>to places,</p><p>to people,</p><p>to lessons.</p><p><br/></p><p>In offices where nobody is your friend but yourself,</p><p>she learned survival.</p><p>She smiled when the room was heavy.</p><p>and promised herself,</p><p>I will not lose me.</p><p><br/></p><p>She was soft.</p><p>She was humble.</p><p>But silence?</p><p>Silence is not humility.</p><p><br/></p><p>So she spoke.</p><p>Spoke for herself.</p><p>Spoke her worth.</p><p><span style="background-color: transparent;">Spoke without losing her softness.</span></p><p>Still…</p><p>she showed up.</p><p><br/></p><p>She learned to manage people.</p><p>She learned to manage emotions.</p><p>She learned to manage herself.</p><p><br/></p><p>And yes, she failed.</p><p>But she failed forward.</p><p>Every mistake,<span style="background-color: transparent;">a stepping stone.</span></p><p>Every no,<span style="background-color: transparent;">a redirection.</span></p><p><br/></p><p>Through it all,</p><p>she guarded her dream.</p><p>Because one day,</p><p>this story she is writing with her life</p><p>will make sense.</p><p><br/></p><p>And Lagos?</p><p>Ah, Lagos was its own teacher.</p><p><br/></p><p>6:30 a.m., squeezed in a danfo</p><p>Sweat sticking her blouse, </p><p>Conductor shouting:</p><p>Mushii! Mushii! Wole wole!!</p><p><br/></p><p>₦50 argument at the back,</p><p>And the conductor?</p><p>He wanted her to forget her change.</p><p>Only if he knew, <span style="background-color: transparent;">she had borrowed that fare.</span></p><p><br/></p><p>Then, t<span style="background-color: transparent;">he shocking smell of beans</span></p><p>fills the cramped bus.</p><p>One passenger casually</p><p>opens her cooler,</p><p>plates herself breakfast,</p><p>as if traffic were her dining table.</p><p><br/></p><p><span style="background-color: transparent;">it couldn’t get worse,</span></p><p>the man beside her said small girl adjust na</p><p>Emi small girl?</p><p>his sweat carried a smell so sharp,</p><p>it almost made her choke.</p><p>No space to turn.</p><p>No air to escape.</p><p>Just Lagos teaching patience</p><p>in body and in nose.</p><p><br/></p><p>She laughed.</p><p>Because even here,</p><p>she was learning.</p><p>Resilience.</p><p>Endurance.</p><p>The art of moving forward—</p><p>even when the bus breaks down.</p><p>Becoming… is never smooth.</p><p>But you… will arrive.</p><p><br/></p><p>It is a process.</p><p>Falling.</p><p>Rising.</p><p>Stretching.</p><p>Breaking.</p><p>Losing.</p><p>Finding.</p><p><br/></p><p>Every day feels like replay, </p><p>but with growth.</p><p><br/></p><p>Each morning she rises.</p><p>Each night she rests.</p><p>And she is never the same woman.</p><p><br/></p><p>So, listen <span style="background-color: transparent;">don’t compare your journey.</span></p><p>Own it.</p><p>Guard it.</p><p>Stay sharp, <span style="background-color: transparent;">like a hunter.</span></p><p><br/></p><p>Eyes on opportunity.</p><p>Hands ready.</p><p>Heart steady.</p><p><br/></p><p>She is not just aging.</p><p>She is unfolding.</p><p><br/></p><p>And even when life is loud,</p><p>toxic,<span style="background-color: transparent;">and unforgiving—</span></p><p><br/></p><p>She… still… shows… up.</p>
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