Writers 
*Growing Up*
I thought growing up was about age,
About blowing candles and cutting cake.
About wearing bigger shoes and longer trousers.
I didn’t know it was about carrying weight.
Growing up is waking up in Lagos traffic,
Sweat on your face before 8 AM.
It’s calculating transport, food, and data,
And still hoping something is left for savings.
It’s NEPA taking light the night before exam,
And reading with phone torch till your eyes burn.
Growing up is the first time you’re told "no".
No job. No admission. No money.
It’s smiling at people who don’t see your struggle,
And saying "I’m fine" when your heart is tired.
It’s watching friends get married, get jobs, get cars,
While you’re still praying for one small break.
And learning not to hate yourself for it.
It’s losing people without a fight.
They just grow, and you grow, and paths separate.
It’s understanding your mother’s scolding was love,
And your father’s silence was responsibility.
It’s cooking, burning the rice, and eating it anyway,
Because nobody is coming to cook for you.
But growing up is also light.
It’s your first alert that says "salary has entered".
It’s buying something for yourself with your own money,
And feeling proud in a way no praise can give.
It’s dancing in your room with no audience,
And being enough for yourself.
It’s forgiving the child in you that made mistakes,
And choosing to try again.
Growing up is not a destination.
It’s falling, getting up, bleeding, and healing.
It’s building yourself in public,
With no blueprint and no manual.
So if you’re growing up right now and you’re scared,
Breathe. You’re not behind.
One day you’ll look back and thank this version of you
For not giving up.
Because growing up is hard.
But becoming you?
That’s the most beautiful thing you’ll ever do.
