BEING THE AUTHOR OF MY OWN STORY

My name is Jeremy. I graduated top of my class in high school and was voted “most likely to succeed” by my classmates. It was fun being in school; I took part in every area of my school life both in academics and extracurricular activities. Though I did not know how to play football like some other guys, I loved the sport and most things about the sport that an average guy might not know even though he plays well; this made me close to most guys. I was good at athletics and girls loved me for my physique. I was the man of the people and am just sixteen.

            “Mehn! I’m sixteen and still young and have the world at my palm, any mistakes I make today, I would still have much time to correct them.”

These words kept running in my head and that gave me hope that one day I would eventually get to where I want to be, after all, I’m most likely to succeed. I graduated from school with big dreams, so big that my very good friend would say to me “small man with big dreams”, and I would smile in reply.

I got admitted into the university and I was very happy- I’m beginning to fulfill destiny my life was taking a new shape and I was happy with the progress. I made a post of my testimony on every social media I had signed up with and I got lots of applauds in the comment section commending my success. My English teacher in high school personally wrote “my guru, go and make us proud”. I was very happy with the way things were turning out in my life.

I enjoyed every bit of school life. School work was amazing and the people were welcoming. I mixed up as much as possible and tried out the trends happening in the school environ. I never missed any lecture and to cap it all I just got a new laptop. All these made school much more exciting for me. As time went on, I discovered that what we were taught during my first few months was just a recap of what I learnt back in high school. The lecture classes were getting boring day-in day-out, at least for me. I still tried, what I thought was my best, to attend as many classes as I could and tried, as much as possible, to cope with the present state of mind.

In the process, I met a couple of friends who introduced me to clubbing. Attending night clubs during the weekends, pool parties and birthday bashes took my university experience to another level. It was a wonderful experience where you could meet new friends; “chicks”; and have fun. The school was getting much more interesting to me and I was enjoying the “vibe” after all- “I’m still young and even if I make a mistake I still had time to correct it”

The first semester’s result came out. I checked my result and it was not as I expected but it was not that bad. I complained to my friends and Arinze said:

“See your result o, oh boy! you be scam o. First class result and you de vex because you no get all A’s. My guy flex tight, smashing nah your natural gift. Enjoy your life even if nah second class upper kind of result you get, you still be hot cake. No live life you go regret say you no try some kind things for school, e go vex you o.”

Obafemi continued:“This semester nah your first semester, you still get time and by the way other semesters no too hard.’’These words gave me a sigh of relief and once again I became happy with myself.

I continued with that kind of character without giving any thoughts to what I was doing to myself. By the second semester of my 300L, left with just one year in school, I did not really understand what life was all about. A summit was held in my school “Preparing for the future ahead”. Coincidentally, one of the speakers was one Chinedu Okoye. The name sounded familiar. Chinedu was one of my classmates who looked up to me back in high school. He had graduated already while I had repeated 200L and I was in my 300L for the second time. My parents were not happy with what was happening to me, but it seemed they had no choice- I was their only child. They just went from one prayer house to another praying for God to “bring back their son”, all to no avail, but who cares-“nah me dey pay?”

As Chinedu climbed the podium, it reminded me of my life in high school and that was when I felt the pain I was putting my parents through. Chinedu talked about a lot of things and even made reference to things I usually tell him back in school to boost his confidence- “...my friend Jeremy would always tell me: Chinedu you can do it. Your size is not equivalent to your capacity”. I was sober within me and I tried as much as possible to hide myself from him. It would be a thing of shame for him to see me like this. I succeeded but my life never remained the same. I headed back to my house in the outskirt of the town. I could not sleep that night thinking about my life. Images of Chinedu’s face kept coming in my head and I would strike my head with my fist. Look at Chinedu of yesterday, he has grown into something else. Mehn nah me do myself. This continued until I dozed off.

Few weeks later I met this girl whom I had a crush on back in high school but never spoke to her because of my ego; what would my friends think? She is not my type. Although she was beautiful, I tried as much as possible to push her away. This was the first time I had ever met her during my stay in this school. She smiled and said “where have you been, what’s happening to you” probably she had heard about what my life was turning into. I was quiet and could not say a thing as tears dropped down my eyes. She hugged me and gave me her handkerchief to wipe my face.

There was a war of emotions going on within me, some sort of mixed reaction. I was happy I met this girl at this point of my life especially now that I needed help, “...but why did I even let her down by turning my life into this mess?” I disgusted myself. She held my hands and this gave me a bit of courage as we headed to the cafeteria “Cafe De median” located at the center of the university. Her name is Genevieve.

Genevieve was a student of the department of biochemistry and would likely become the best graduating student of her department if she continued at that pace. Left with a year, she was on a CGPA of 4.76. She was the choir mistress of our school’s Pentecostal chapel and was involved in a lot of groups most notably “The Soul”- an all-girl group of spoken words artists whose fame had gone throughout our school and neighboring schools for the lovers of poetic arts. Poems were not my thing so I could not have noticed.

We spoke for quite some time and she gave me some advice on how to go about with my life. We exchanged contacts and she promised to always check up on me. My semester result was much better because I wanted to proof something. One of my lecturers even commended me saying “you’ve got gifts...”. Things were going on much better than it used to be and I was beginning to feel the real me coming back into place. That high school feeling was rising once more.

Genevieve and I attended different summits and the number increased as time went by. My mind was taking a new shape. Theodore Clarke, a psychologist who came as a guest speaker for the summit “Being the Author of your Own Story” took time to talk about how to get back up, making quite a number of references to stories that looked like mine. I was happy with the way he spoke and decided to follow him on all his social media handles, taking notes from his posts on Facebook and others. I decided to become the author of my own story.

“My story must be the way I want it to be”, I kept telling myself. I joined a book club where I meet a friend who introduced me to a jazz music group. I also joined CMI- Creative Minds Initiative, headed by Mr. Clarke, where I ended up being their West/Central Africa Regional Representative. At this time, I had already graduated from school after spending six years for a four year course and with better grades. I owned a million dollar conglomerate. I have three kids Jeremy jnr., Jacob and Abigail. All these happened because I met one woman; my wife Genevieve. I am being the author of my story. Living the life I wrote in letters.