Things fell into place

Omo Ope don graduate

If you’re reading this on a Tuesday morning, picture me as a ‘light’ in a dress. Today, I sit in the front row, glowing like the princess I know myself to be. It’s my graduation day—an official, ceremonial farewell to university life. And while I’m mostly excited, my heart also carries a bittersweet mix of gratitude, reflection, and wonder.

April 13, 2022, could have been the day everything fell apart. That date is etched in my memory because it marks a moment when my resilience was tested. I remember sitting in my room, staring at nothing, feeling like I had reached the edge of my will. I’m someone who suppresses emotions, acts on impulse, and often follows the wind, but that day, for once, I allowed myself to cry.

If you guessed I had planned to drop out, you’d be right. I think nearly every university student faces this crossroads at some point. For me, dropping out felt like an escape, a way to let go of something that seemed to be slipping from my grasp. But what held me back was simple: I didn’t think I had anything else to fall back on. I couldn’t draw, couldn’t dance, couldn’t name a “talent” that felt worthy of a leap of faith. So, school had to work. It became my “do or die.”

I failed that semester—failed so miserably it shocked me into perspective. And yet, it was worth it. Those results weren’t the end of the world; they were a wake-up call that tied loose knots in my head.

And then there was my final-year project—a saga in itself. My supervisor seemed to believe I was a machine, endlessly capable of accommodating his whims. He changed my topic as often as the wind changes direction, and I lost my cool more times than I’d like to admit. But somehow, I kept going. I couldn’t give up.

If you’re reading this now, I’m likely sitting in the convocation hall, quietly irritated by the off-key drums and saxophones echoing in the background. If it’s tomorrow, I’ll probably be standing in front of the registrar’s office, annoyed by their inefficiencies. If it’s next week, I’ll be typing up a post for LinkedIn about stepping into the “big girl” phase of life.

But today, I’m reflecting on what it all means. The weight of everything I want for my future rests squarely in my hands, and while that’s daunting, it’s also exhilarating. For now, I’ll celebrate leaving university behind. And yes, I’ll be taking swimming lessons once I take down these graduation braids.

As I write this, I’m sitting at my convocation dinner, which started at 6:00 PM. True to form, I arrived at 7:38. The keynote speaker was mid-rant about punctuality, and I couldn’t help but laugh—because honestly, that sums up my university life in a nutshell.

I’ll miss my friend—let’s call him Drake. He’s one of the best people I met during this journey, though he annoyed me endlessly when we first met. Somehow, he became a constant, a reminder of how unexpected yet beautiful connections can be. Hey Drake, this is for you: I’ll root for you forever. You’re my vice president, I’m your president, and you’ll always have a special place in my heart.

Looking back, I remember crying so hard when I saw my UTME result in 2021. I begged God to show up for me, and when it felt like He wasn’t listening, I questioned everything. But now, standing on the other side of those prayers, I see how He carried me through. God has never told me “no.” He has reminded me, again and again, that He sees me, loves me, and holds me in His hands. My 2:1 degree might not be the “perfect” result I dreamed of, but I’m proud. My CGPA never fell below 4.0—even though I was hardly the type to stay up all night studying.

To my mother: Thank you. You are the first god I ever knew, the one who paved the way so I could walk. You’ve been my biggest supporter, my safe haven, my everything. I promise to make you proud.

To my sister: You’re the reason I found myself in the arts. You’re the reason I studied mass communication. You’ve never made a single mistake in my eyes, and you’re the person I look up to most in the world. Ore, your strength gives me confidence.

To my special person: Thank you for loving me and standing by me through it all. You’ve been my anchor, and I’m grateful for your unwavering support. Here’s to us—till the wheels fall off.

As I wrap this up, I’m heading off to take pictures, though malaria has me feeling less than 100%. Still, this is a moment I’ll cherish forever.

To everyone who has been part of this journey, thank you for riding with me, for holding my hands, for believing in me when I couldn’t believe in myself. The future is waiting, and I’m ready(yee 🥹)

To borrow from Chinua Achebe’s words, things didn’t fall apart after all. In moments when it felt like the center could no longer hold, something greater held me together. Looking back, I see how everything that once seemed chaotic or insurmountable was part of a greater plan. It all worked out—the heartbreaks, the failures, the moments of doubt—they shaped me and brought me here. Today, everything is in its place. Maybe not perfect, but perfectly aligned for what comes next. Achebe taught us that even in the face of change, there’s strength in resilience. That strength is what carried me through.

We’re out!💃💃💃

Sisi Eko has something in her bag