Jesse Ojuka

January 21st, I left my job. Not because I had another one lined up, but because it began to erode my soul like a dark acid. I went from being the brightest person in work to the gloomiest. I knew I had to make a change. 

Currently I’ve a been self-employed artist for the last two months living in my mother’s house. Luckily, I don’t go out much or have a need for a lot of things so I’m able to survive on the money I make from music. I hear about my peers who I went to school with making six figures, with shiny job titles. Scrolling through media I often come across announcements on LinkedIn about their new degrees and fancy job promotions. I feel removed. Ejected from that world since I left secondary school, oblivious to what that life is like. A life of perceived certainty. A life of having a quick answer when someone asks “what do you do”. A life of not wondering where my next big paycheque is going to come from. However, instead plummeting into self-pity or the grip of despair. I can’t help but grin in delightful confidence. 

Since I was fifteen, I always knew my life was going to be unconventional. “I’m not going to get rich from a degree” I would tell my mum. A gargantuan wave of pride washes over me when I embrace and reflect on the fact that despite how radical and unorthodox, I may look, I am being the person I want to be. I chose my path and I walk it with a smile. 

Reminders of mortality chime in my mind on an almost daily basis. As I’m asked questions such as “what would you do if money didn’t exist”, “what would you do if no one in the world would judge you”. An avalanche of gratitude and glory comes upon me as I answer “exactly what I’m doing now”.