Writers 
Part One: Too Young to Listen
There is a dangerous stage in life when you are old enough to make your own decisions but too young to understand the consequences of making the wrong ones.
I was there.
I was young, ambitious, energetic and full of dreams. I had the kind of confidence that made me believe there was nothing I couldn't achieve if I simply put my mind to it.
I wanted to be successful.
I wanted financial freedom.
I wanted to make my own decisions without anyone questioning me.
Most importantly, I wanted to prove that I was no longer a child.
And perhaps that was where my problem began.
I had mistaken independence for knowing everything.
Whenever my mother tried to advise me, I would listen, smile and still do exactly what I had already planned.
“Take your time,” she would say.
“I know what I'm doing,” I would reply.
Sometimes she would look at me quietly.
I didn't understand that look then.
Now I do.
It was the look of someone who knew experience was about to teach me what advice couldn't.
I wasn't a bad person. I wasn't deliberately trying to disrespect anyone. I simply believed that my generation understood life better.
The world was changing, after all.
We had social media.
We had access to information.
We could learn almost anything with a phone.
So why should I allow someone else's experience to determine my choices?
I wanted to make my own mistakes.
I didn't realize that some mistakes are expensive enough to change the way you see life.
My friends didn't help either.
We were young and excited. We talked about success as if it were something we could order online and receive the next morning.
We celebrated every small achievement like we had already made it.
Someone would say, “Let's try this.”
And before anyone could ask questions, we were already making plans.
We loved speed.
We hated patience.
Waiting felt like weakness.
Caution sounded like fear.
And anyone who told us to slow down was immediately labelled as someone who didn't understand our dreams.
Looking back now, I realize that youthful exuberance isn't necessarily a bad thing.
It gives you courage.
It makes you willing to try.
It makes you believe that your life can become something extraordinary.
But when that energy is mixed with pride, impatience and the refusal to listen, it can become dangerous.
You begin to think that every warning is an attempt to stop you.
You begin to think that every correction is an insult.
You begin to believe that failure happens to everyone except you.
That was exactly how I felt.
I felt invincible.
Until life reminded me that nobody is.
It happened on an ordinary afternoon.
A friend called me and said he had discovered an opportunity.
His voice was filled with excitement.
“You need to hear this,” he said.
I laughed.
“What is it?”
He began explaining.
The more he talked, the more interested I became.
It sounded perfect.
Quick returns.
Little effort.
A chance to make serious money.
I could already imagine what my life would look like.
I imagined helping my family.
I imagined buying the things I had always wanted.
I imagined finally proving to everyone that I could make something of myself.
There was only one problem.
I hadn't asked enough questions.
I hadn't done enough research.
And I certainly hadn't listened to the small voice in my head telling me to slow down.
Instead, I allowed excitement to make the decision for me.
That evening, I told my mother about the opportunity.
She listened carefully.
Then she asked me a question that irritated me more than I wanted to admit.
“Are you sure you know what you're getting into?”
I smiled.
“Yes, Mum. I know what I'm doing.”
She didn't argue.
She simply said,
“Alright. Just be careful.”
I walked away feeling victorious.
I thought I had finally shown her that I could make decisions for myself.
I didn't know that those words—“I know what I'm doing”—would soon become the words I would regret the most.
Because within a few weeks, I was going to discover that confidence without wisdom can be a very dangerous thing.
And the opportunity I thought would change my life…
was about to change it in a way I never expected.
To be continued…
