The Dilemma of Young Hearts.

I don’t say this aloud, because no one would understand. The tiredness doesn’t go away. It settles into your bones, your chest, your very being. You wake up every day carrying the weight of expectations you didn’t choose, of responsibilities far too heavy for someone your age. You move through life pretending, because the world doesn’t give time to stumble or breathe.

Some days, the weight is unbearable. You are the only hope your family leans on. You see your mother alone in her room, tears streaking her face, worn down by endless labor from six in the morning to six at night — just to make sure you and your siblings eat. You fear she may leave this world without enjoying the fruits of her sacrifice. Calls from creditors don’t stop. Debts pile up. Offers of help are refused. Every opportunity seems locked away. Life strikes so hard that thinking of a way out feels like staring at a cliff with no path down.

At the same time, you’re trapped in another battle — this generation’s quiet prison. You’re expected to get good grades and also make money. To focus on school, but still provide. To study hard, but also survive reality. If your grades drop, you’re careless. If you chase money, you’re distracted. Either way, you’re judged. You sit in class thinking about bills. You lie awake at night thinking about exams. Your mind is split between future promises and present emergencies.

You want to scream. You want to run. But morals, upbringing, and discipline hold you back. Peer pressure whispers shortcuts, but you cannot take them. Hard work was meant to save you, yet the reward is always just beyond reach. Each day feels like balancing on a tightrope above stormy waters, and every step threatens to make you fall. You try. You fail. You try again. Still, nothing comes.

Night arrives, cold and honest. Questions haunt you: What if all this effort is for nothing? What if my family suffers despite everything I’ve done? What if endurance is all I am capable of? You lie in the dark, staring at the ceiling, wishing to see the stars, wishing life would pause, wishing the waves wouldn’t keep crashing so hard. Faith begins to shake. Prayers feel hollow. Even hope trembles under the weight of reality.

Morning comes with no mercy. It asks the same of you: rise, move, survive. Not because life promises reward, but because stopping would mean losing everything you’ve fought to keep together. The persistence it demands is brutal, yet it is the only way forward, the only proof that survival can be claimed in a world that seems intent on taking it away.

This is the dilemma of young hearts in Nigeria — a generation growing up under pressure, responsibility, and waiting. It is a quiet struggle shared across many African homes, carried by young people forced to mature before their time. Strength is formed here, not loud or celebrated, but steady and necessary. And though the burden is heavy, those who carry it continue — not because the world is kind, but because endurance has become a way of life.

James Adie.