They say Unilag is the school of first choice the golden ticket, the flex on every CV. And yet, here I am, watching it unfold in its usual lively chaos: people running to lectures, dodging potholes, lecturers reminding everyone about deadlines, freshers crowding stalls, buying handouts like gold. Controlled chaos. A rhythm only this place understands.

I sit back and watch. Everyone’s in their own orbit, hustling, performing. Me? I notice the cracks,the subtle dramas, the half-hidden truths, the irony of ambition tangled in exhaustion. A group of friends laughs so hard, but I see the tension in their eyes. I talk to myself a lot here. “This is what first choice looks like?” I ask. No answer. Doesn’t matter. I see it all anyway.

It’s exhausting trying to be happy while stressed. Laughing one moment, panicking about assignments and deadlines the next. Last night, I stayed up scrolling, pretending to “relax,” only to wake up realizing I had a lecture I thought didn’t exist. Cue the mad sprint across campus, trying not to look like a zombie. Part comedy, part horror, all wrapped in caffeine and chaos.

Everyone pretends they’ve got the equation figured out: productivity plus fun equals contentment. But the numbers never add up. Messy, glorious, terrifying. I talk to myself: “Is this the recipe for adulthood?” Shrug. Doesn’t matter. The tension, the joy, the chaos ,it’s all part of the show, and I’m front row, popcorn in hand, mentally taking notes.