The Road Back Home”
A Memoir by Ezekiel
I was just a child when I first wandered from the path laid before me. Not physically, but spiritually—emotionally. I left my father’s house in search of something I couldn’t name. A meaning. A truth. A reason why life felt so heavy before it had even begun.
I asked questions no one could answer. I dug deep into books, into silence, into the corners of my own mind. But the deeper I searched, the more elusive the answers became. I didn’t know then that I was looking in all the wrong places. It took years—painful, hungry years—to realize that sometimes, the answers aren’t found in escape, but in endurance.
My father sent me to school, hoping education would be my salvation. But my teachers’ words sounded like gibberish. Not because I couldn’t understand, but because my stomach growled louder than their lessons. Hunger drowned out hope. After school, I returned home to empty pots and tired siblings. We were fighters, but the battle was relentless.
I laughed a lot in school—guffawed, really. Not because life was funny, but because laughter was the only rebellion I could afford. Eventually, I dropped out. Not because I gave up, but because I needed to survive. I left the country, chasing a dream that felt more like a lifeline. Life back home had become a battlefield, and I was tired of bleeding.
But even in foreign lands, the questions followed me. The ache didn’t vanish—it evolved. I realized that meaning isn’t something you find. It’s something you build. Brick by brick. Day by day. Through pain, through perseverance, through the quiet victories no one sees.
I’m still on that journey. Still searching. Still building. But I know now: I will never give up. Because my story isn’t just about struggle—it’s about strength. And every chapter I write is proof that I’m still here.
