SS2 at B.M. Lawson began like stepping into a storm I had already weathered once.
I wasn't naive anymore. I had learned to read the intentions behind the whispers, to sense the shifts in the classroom, and to guard myself against the casual cruelty of peers.
But surviving didn't mean life became easy.
The bullying never fully stopped. Some classmates tested me openly, others with sly remarks in class or deliberate distractions during exams.
It would have been enough to make most boys crumble, but I had learned something crucial: brains alone don't win battles, but brains plus patience and observation can be deadly.
So I retreated into my studies, yet I couldn't help noticing how my peers struggled with concepts I grasped easily. I wasn't performing at my best, but deep down, I knew I was still smarter than most of them.
This was also the time when I began to look for small escapes, little corners of freedom to remind myself I was still Light.
I discovered quiet walks around the campus after evening prep, staring at the sky and thinking about life, ambition, and the dreams I hadn't dared speak aloud yet.
Sometimes, I would meet Imsomter in secret corners of the school. Even though I had drifted from FCS, he remained my closest friend, my confidant.
"You're hiding in the shadows too much," he once whispered one night, soup-smuggled in hand.
"One day you'll regret it," I replied with a small smile, trying to hide the storm inside me.
We would sit quietly, eat, talk about books, God, and the future — and in those small moments, I remembered I wasn't completely alone.
SS3 was harder than I imagined.
The workload increased, and my psoriasis flared occasionally, reminding me that the body often rebels when the mind is under stress. Some students noticed, some mocked, some avoided me entirely.
But I had grown.
I had learned to ignore the noise, focus on what mattered, and conserve my energy for the battles I could win.
I wasn't aiming for the top of the class anymore. I was aiming for my own level — understanding my strengths, weaknesses, and the world around me.
The final exams approached.
For years, I had struggled with grades that never reflected my intelligence. I studied harder than anyone, but the shadows of bullying and depression had taken their toll.
And yet, when JAMB results arrived, something clicked.
Most of my classmates — the ones who had mocked, whispered, and tested me — weren't even on my level.
I wasn't in the top 25. Not even close. But out of 182 students, I realized I was better than most of them.
That realization sparked something deep inside: I could survive anything, and I could still rise.
By the time I graduated from Senior Secondary, I was a different person.
I had survived abuse, isolation, illness, and self-doubt. I had learned patience, observation, and strategy.
I was no longer the naive boy who walked into the school gates.
I was ready for the next stage: university.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, the first thoughts of starting something of my own began to stir — small, almost imperceptible sparks of ambition that would one day ignite into LITECHS.