Becoming me

Chapter 2 – Searching for a Way Out

Eliana’s POV

I wake up as early as 5 a.m. every day. The walk to school felt unreal, like I was moving through someone else’s life. At school, Iwas the girl who sometimes cried silently in class but smiled to cover the pain. No one knew what I carried in my chest, the

heaviness that weighed me down before the first bell rang.

In junior school, I had been brilliant, curious, and full of life. I loved learning, loved playing, loved pretending the world was

bright. But senior school changed all that. Depression crept in like a shadow, and I started failing classes. No one noticed the

silent tears behind my eyes. Instead, they blamed me for being distracted, while they themselves were the real distraction.

Some nights, my mind wouldn’t let me sleep. I overdosed on sleeping pills and painkillers, desperate to shut off my thoughts.

Yet, no matter how numb I became, I couldn’t stop watching psychological videos or true crime discoveries. It was a morbid

escape, a way to feel alive when I couldn’t feel anything else.

Even friends turned against me. The girls I once called friends mocked me relentlessly — my appearance, the way I acted. They

said I looked “dead,” “like a fish.” Their words stung, but they also hardened me, pushing me deeper into isolation.

The constant fighting at home made school both a haven and a prison. I wanted to escape it all, to leave Nigeria, move to

another country, and start fresh. Yet, I still clung to small successes. My letters and essays sometimes shone, though my

teachers were quick to call out mistakes. Their criticism made me want to improve; it pushed me to write more, practice more.

But over time, the fire dimmed. I lost interest in everything I had once loved. I spent days scrolling endlessly on my phone,

wasting hours, letting life pass me by. I took a gap year, thinking I would find a skill, make something for myself. But laziness

won more days than ambition.

Then my father suggested data analytics. I refused — not out of stubbornness, but because I didn’t have a laptop, which he

promised but failed to provide.

The following year, I sat for the university entrance exam to study psychology. I didn’t get in. I didn’t want to try again, so I

settled for a diploma in social work. Life seemed like a series of doors closing.

Then my sister sent me a link for a scholarship to study data analytics. I applied.

And I got it.

At the same time, I needed money. Broke and desperate, I heard about ghostwriting — a way to earn from writing, even if it

had been years since I’d picked up a pen with purpose. At first, I was scared. What if they rejected me? What if I couldn’t write

a story that was good enough?

But fear only lasts until you take the first step.

Either I fail and keep trying… or I sit back and wonder forever.

I chose to take the chance.