IS AGE REALLY A NUMBER ? - by Muhammad Mercurial

Is age really a number…or a sacred archive of silent wars? I came into this world cryingnot knowing that breath itself & transportation would demand payment. Not knowing that livingwould be a long examinationwith questions set by painand marked by time. Year one.Hunger spoke before language found me.Milk rushed into my mouth before I asked. Year five.Laughter learned to hidefrom unfamiliar hands. Year seven.They said: go to the kitchenif you are hungry…feed yourself. Year ten.Innocence began to bargain with reality.The playground rehearsed survival. Tell meis age really a number? Birthdays came like visitors.Some brought candles…Some brought cakes…Some… used garri as cake.All merged and stored in a golden box called experience. Each year did not add to me.It carved into me.Lessons etched where no eyes could see.Trauma folding itselfinto quiet corners of my soul. Secondary school became a judging mirror.Comparison sat beside me like an uninvited spirit.Identity was measured with rulersthat never bent for difference. So many folks we played together died left and right Still…I moved.Still…I breathed.And you called that a number ? University came like a dream come true but unfolded like a confrontation that left many with questions like 'did I step I stepped into the bad lands' Sleepless nights to ace my gradeswhile at age one I was fed without asking.Mother in distressif I did not sleep on time. Now… University Mama dey house they snore, pikin dey E.T.F they read with the aim 'i wanna make Mama proud' Tell me againis age really a number? It was there.I met every version of myselfthat survival forced me to abandon. Pressure spoke fluently.Loneliness wore familiar faces.Dreams stood in fragile bodiesfighting doubtin crowded rooms…and empty nights. So tell me againis age really a number? When every year is a chapter soaked in becoming.When every moment teaches with harsh hands.When every step forwardcarries unseen battles.when everyone call from home is a call of expectations Do not reduce me to counting.Do not press me into digits. Because adulthood… no be scam.Na confirmed reality. They say age is just a number.But year one; I was given food.Final year; they said: go and find work buddy. As a little soil, I cried for attention but as a plant, I hide my tears for my germination. I am not just an age.I am a collection of endured storms.A breathing archive of lessons…learned without permission. Age is not a number. It is memory.It is weight.It is survival speaking without a voice. You dare call my experience a number…when every year showed me shege banza. No dey whine me.I no get chill pill. So when you see me…do not count me. READ ME!!! © Muhammad Mercurial🖋️

Other insights from Muhammad Mercurial

Referral Earning

Points-to-Coupons