Living a Fake Life in Lagos
Lagos was everything I thought it would be: lights that never dimmed, streets pulsing with energy, and opportunities hiding behind every corner. I arrived with dreams bigger than my suitcase, determined to make it rich and famous. But dreams have a price, and I wasn’t ready to pay it honestly.
I created a life that wasn’t mine. My social media overflowed with expensive dinners, luxury cars, and designer clothes. I rented outfits I couldn’t afford, borrowed cars for photoshoots, and pretended to have a life of success that I had yet to earn. Friends and followers admired me, but admiration is cheap when it’s built on lies.
The truth was, I was barely surviving. My rent was overdue, my bank account drained, and I lived in a small, crumbling apartment behind a façade of Instagram-perfect images. I smiled in photos while anxiety gnawed at me behind closed doors. Every invitation I accepted, every party I attended, was a performance, and the pressure to keep up was suffocating.
Then came the night it all threatened to collapse. A supposed investor reached out, offering a real opportunity but only if I could “prove” my wealth and influence. Panic surged. I couldn’t show them the truth. My fake life was about to be exposed.
In that moment, I made a choice: continue the lies and risk disaster or start living honestly. I admitted my struggles publicly, sharing the truth behind my curated posts. To my surprise, some laughed, some unfollowed, but many reached out with support, mentorship, and genuine connections.
Living authentically wasn’t glamorous, but it was freeing. I found real friends, started a small but honest business, and discovered that self-worth can’t be measured in likes or borrowed luxury.
Moral;Chasing fame and wealth through deception may bring attention, but only honesty and integrity bring lasting fulfillment.