HUSTLE'S DIARY

FOREWORD
Hopes, dreams, visions which ever term you choose to use, they all generally depict the imaginations of the mind.
Sometimes it means building a perfect world, an ideal image of oneself. Though the applications might differ, no one wants bad for himself.
As a young man, -let me rephrase that-, as a growing man, an average man in the suburb of Lagos -that catches it perfectly- Life doesn't come on a platter of gold . In fact for most people around me, it never comes on any platter at all, they have to chase after it. Having to seek out opportunities, having to strive, work hard. Doing the HUSTLES.
Yet all this, never seems to be enough, the efforts hardly amounts to something, stories of hope flying around, yet what I see is despair. I tell myself to tell others to never give up, and so technically I can never give up too. It's one struggle after another. And be not mistaken, help comes, by help I mean the little handouts(money) that's gotten from generosity or from hard persuasion, it's still never enough. The money flies away almost as soon as it comes.
In a country like this, with systems like these, with corruption looming in every corner, nothing seems to work. Educated or not, it is not rosy down here.
I tell this story as a reminder of hope. A tale of the hard and going.