DIRECTION - by Yemi And The Pen

The Thing About Obedience The walk to my first lecture felt longer than it should have.I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and looked around at the students rushing towards their various faculties and wondered how many of them were actually studying what they wanted.I knew I wasn't. For as long as I could remember, I had loved writing. Stories and articles and basically anything that allowed me to put words together and make them mean something. I used to write in old exercise books and reread my words until I got bored and wrote something else. I wanted to become a journalist. I wanted to interview people, write stories that mattered and maybe, one day, have my name printed beneath something people actually read.My parents knew this. But they also knew exactly what they wanted for me.“You should study Law,” they'd tell me.It started as a suggestion. And I appreciated it. It eventually became advice and then finally, a decision.Law was a respectable course. Law was professional. Law would give me options. Journalism, according to my father, was too uncertain. My mother agreed.“What will you do with writing?” she would ask. “You need a proper profession.”I tried explaining that journalism was a profession.They dismissed my appeals. And what exactly was I supposed to do? Refuse?They were the ones paying my school fees. They were the ones buying my food, paying the bills and making sure I had everything I needed.How could I look at them and say, I don't want this?So I had kept quiet.When the admission letter came, my mother cried with happiness. My father was beside himself with joy and called relatives. Everyone congratulated me.Nobody asked whether I was happy about the course. Because they assumed it was what I wanted. I had smiled anyway. Now, as I reached the lecture hall, I felt something sink inside me.I walked to the back and found an empty seat.Around me, students were talking excitedly, introducing themselves and comparing lecture schedules.Law.Maybe I would grow to like it. Maybe I wouldn't. Maybe four years from now, I would look back and be grateful that my parents had chosen for me.Or maybe I would always wonder what might have happened if I'd been brave enough to choose for myself. The lecturer walked in and everyone became quiet.I opened my notebook and schooled my thoughts into concentration.I may not enjoy this lecture, but at least it's what my parents want.And for now, that had to be enough.

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