A journey back to myself

A Journey Back to Myself
I lost myself between questions,
between why and how,
between log tables and late nights,
scrolling past faces I didn’t know
on apps that promised answers
but never called my name.
I was numbers once—
fractions, surds, powers raised too high,
trying to make sense of things
smaller than one,
learning that even tiny values
still count.
I walked Lagos roads in my mind,
asking for fun, for places close to home,
not too far, not too loud—
just somewhere I could breathe
and remember that I am young
and allowed to enjoy being alive.
I tried on voices:
poems by others, stories from class,
lines that weren’t mine
but felt like borrowed shoes—
useful,
never perfect.
I asked machines about intelligence,
about music made from words,
about turning thoughts into something real.
Maybe I wasn’t chasing AI—
maybe I was chasing proof
that my ideas mattered.
Some days I felt split in two:
one side scared, one side dreaming,
a little darkness, a little light—
like an anime frame paused mid-battle
where the hero hasn’t realized yet
he’s already strong.
But slowly, quietly,
I began to return.
I learned that confusion is not failure,
that questions are doors,
that learning is a journey,
not a race.
I am not lost anymore—
I am becoming.
This is my journey back to myself:
from noise to meaning,
from copying to creating,
from searching the world
to finally listening
to my own voice.