Episode 12: Dreams on Hold
473 Words
There was a time music was everything to me.
Not just passion.
Not just talent.
It was my escape.
My voice.
My identity.
Back in Makurdi…
At Johnicks Studio Villa, I wasn’t just another artist trying to be heard.
I was Realface.
Those days felt different.
Full of hope.
Full of fire.
Full of belief that the world was just one song away from noticing me.
We were many.
Young.
Hungry.
Determined.
We spent hours in the studio.
Recording.
Arguing over lyrics.
Laughing.
Dreaming.
And among us were people who are now making it.
Limoblaze…
Back then, he was my producer.
We worked together.
Created together.
Believed together.
Now?
He was in the UK.
Doing great.
Living the dream we once talked about.
Jumabee.
Trageel.
Santa Dinero.
Names that once felt like brothers in the struggle…
Now felt like stars I watched from a distance.
And me?
Still here.
Still struggling.
I had songs.
Real songs.
Songs that carried pain, love, truth.
“Unconditional.”
“Yarn Ur Mind.”
Songs people listened to.
Songs people appreciated.
But appreciation…
Was not enough.
Because in this world—
Talent is powerful.
But money moves things faster.
Studio sessions needed payment.
Producers needed to be paid.
Promotion needed money.
Everything needed money.
And I didn’t have it.
Slowly…
Painfully…
My music began to fade into the background.
Not because I stopped loving it.
But because life forced me to survive first.
Security work.
Feeding.
Rent.
Daily survival.
Dreams had to wait.
I changed my name to Realfaceng.
A new identity…
But the same heart.
The same fire.
The same struggle.
Some nights…
Inside that lonely, unfinished building…
I would sit in the dark.
No light.
No audience.
Just me…
And my voice.
I would sing softly.
My own songs.
My own story.
And for a moment…
I felt alive again.
But when the song ended…
Reality returned.
Silence.
Loneliness.
Struggle.
I would pick up my phone…
Scroll through social media…
And see them.
Winning.
Traveling.
Performing.
Celebrated.
And I was happy for them.
Truly.
But deep inside…
A question kept rising.
Why not me?
Was I not talented enough?
Was I not working hard enough?
Or was life just… unfair?
I leaned back against the cold wall and closed my eyes.
“God…” I whispered.
“When will my own time come?”
No answer.
Just silence.
But deep down…
Very deep down…
There was still a voice.
A quiet one.
A stubborn one.
Don’t stop.
I opened my eyes slowly.
Took a deep breath.
Maybe my journey was different.
Maybe my timing was different.
But one thing I knew for sure—
This wasn’t the end.
Even if my dreams were on hold…
They were not dead.
And one day…
I would sing again.
Not in silence.
But for the world to hear.
- Writer
