Level 200: Complete!

It’s 6:57 AM and I’m crying in my bed

If you asked me why I’m crying right now, I’d struggle to give you a straight answer.

I just watched the last episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S,

Six months ago, I started the show looking for something to fill the quiet moments between classes, assignments, and the endless routine of existing. Somewhere along the line, it became more than background noise. It became familiar. Predictable. Comforting.

And now it’s over.

In the final scene, Phoebe suggests they all go get coffee one last time. Chandler responds with a single word:

“Where?”

It’s the last word ever spoken on the show.

But the question “where?” was rhetorical, a silent nudge to the fourth wall. Because we all know where;

Central Perk.

The same coffee house where Chandler made terrible jokes. Where Joey flirted with every woman within a five-mile radius. Where Phoebe sang songs that should never have existed. Where Monica organized life down to the arrangement of dinner plates. Where Ross would rave about dinosaurs. Where Rachel turned every minor inconvenience into a full-scale emergency.

Central Perk

That was where. It had always been where. It was always going to be where.

There was something poetic about that moment. The constancy of it, the familiarity, the comfort of knowing there is a place where you belong.

I’m going to miss that show so much.

It’s 7:10 AM, and I’m still crying

And if you asked me why I still wouldn’t be able to give you a straight answer.

I wrote my final exams for the semester yesterday. I’m officially done with 200 level. And instead of coming up with extravagant plans for the summer that I’ll never follow through on, I’m lying in my bed, wrapped by the enveloping warmth of my blanket, sobbing into a pillowcase that probably should have been washed a week ago.

The salty scent of tears forming puddles on my pillow remind me of the first time I had a panic attack.

It’s been almost two years ago now. I remember sitting in front of a computer trying to figure out my future, researching university prospects in the U.S. Classifying them based on acceptance rates, tuition costs, scholarship opportunities, diversity statistics, distance from New York, average SAT scores—every possible metric I could use to convince myself I was somehow in control.

But I wasn’t in control.

I was at home, trying to figure out my future, while my friends were in school, actively chasing theirs. But I wasn’t supposed to be at home.

I’d tried writing JAMB, but my biometrics failed on the day and I never got rescheduled. I was supposed to use my WAEC results to look for scholarships abroad, but something weird happened and all the arts students in my school got similar, average results. I’d passed my IGCSEs really well, but I was just realising those were useless without A-levels. I tried writing SAT, but my computer crashed on the day of the exam and only came back up halfway into my time.

Now I was preparing to take the SATs again.

But every school I looked at wouldn’t be accepting students anymore by the time my results would come out. So I danced through the internet, essentially prostituting myself from one tab to another, begging someone… anyone to just take me.

Every path I had carefully imagined for myself seemed to be collapsing into itself one after another.

So, I broke down.

It started with gentle sobs, and then it became a tightened chest, and running thoughts, of how I was behind, and alone, and scared, and confused. Most of my friends weren’t speaking to me anymore, home was carrying more tension than stability, and church—the one place I’d always felt safe—had turned into a cold, money-grabbing theater.

My head was spinning, my heart was racing, my breath was slowing, everything about my bodily functions either kicked into overdrive or became entirely numb.

I remember crawling out of my room because I genuinely didn’t know what else to do. I remember finding my mum. I remember how she held me. How she listened. How she reassured me that everything would be alright even though neither of us knew how.

And now, I’m crying again. Two years on, I’m still her little boy. I want to hold her tight. I want to remind her of how she told me everything would be alright. I might never have made it to the U.S. I might never have gotten to my dream school. Hell, I might have changed what “dream” meant in my dictionary more times than I can count.

But the kids are alright mum.

Your kid is alright.

It’s 7:20 AM, and I’m wiping the tears away now. Or at least I’m trying to.

I came to Afe Babalola University late last year. I came in as a Direct Entry student from Bells after doing A-levels there. When I came in, I was unsure of how things would turn out. And the hardest part was that I was coming in when everyone else had already figured out “their place” in school.

I wouldn’t get to go through the weird process of finding cafeterias and locating lecture halls with my colleagues or my roommates. Because everyone had already settled in. Everyone else had figured out their preferred seats in class, and their go-to snacks for dinner, and the best places to find network on a rainy Thursday night. I would be doing it all on my own.

Because I didn’t have any roommates. And for the first few months, I didn’t even have a course mate I could talk to.

I genuinely thought I would spend my time here surviving rather than living.

Cafeterias scared me when hundreds of people would be jostling to have their orders taken, long queues would crowd out the entire building, and noise would be bouncing off every wall.

So, I’d wait till they were empty, and creep in when the raucousness of break time would make way for the coolness of evening, just before everywhere would get rowdy again at night.

Looking back now, it sounds funny. But at the time, there was no humor. All there was, was loneliness, and the sound of plastic echoing across the room as I dug through my plate.

I had to figure it out on my own, because I was so painfully alone.

It’s 7:40 now. I’ve sat up. The tears have stopped. All I’m doing now is dragging the catarrh trying to escape the boundaries of my nostrils.

My quivering lips have given way to a shaky smile.

I’m smiling thinking of all the friends I’ve made. Dammit, the tears are starting to flow again!

You guys mean the world to me. Thank you so much for this whole year. Thank you for seeing through the protective shell I used as covering. Thank you for insisting on conversations when I was content to disappear into the background. Thank you for every afternoon walk to Caf 1, every plate of lacklustre Jollof rice and chicken that we shared, every late-night discussion that started with academics and somehow ended with critiquing my unhealthy obsession with Olivia Rodrigo.

Thank you for making a strange place feel familiar.

I came here convinced I would have to figure everything out on my own. And for a while, I did. But somewhere between lecture halls and cafeteria queues, between group assignments and last-minute test preparation, something changed.

I found people.

People who remembered my name. People who checked in when I disappeared. People who made me laugh so hard that my stomach hurt. People who reminded me that loneliness isn’t always permanent.

Endings have a funny way of forcing you to acknowledge beginnings.

The last episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S wasn’t sad just because six characters were leaving an apartment. It was sad because it reminded me that beautiful things don’t stay still forever. Seasons end. People move. Chapters close.

But they happened.

And that’s what matters.

Two years ago, I was lying on the floor of my house wondering whether life was leaving me behind. Yesterday, I finished my 200-level exams surrounded by people I genuinely care about.

Two years ago, I was terrified of the future. Today, I’m grateful for the present.

Maybe that’s growth.

Maybe that’s what healing looks like.

Either way, I’m thankful.

Thankful for my mum. Thankful for every setback that somehow redirected me to where I am today. Thankful for every friend I’ve made. Thankful for every memory this year has given me.

It’s 7:50 AM now.

The tears have finally stopped. My pillowcase is still overdue for a wash.

And I like to imagine that somewhere in New York, six fictional friends are probably heading to Central Perk for one last cup of coffee.

As for me, I’m heading into another chapter.

A little older. A little stronger. A lot less alone.

And for the first time in a very long time, that’s enough.

See you next week, Wanderers.

And a special shout out to my favourite little rabbit too 🥹🤭

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What I’m watching: Well, I think it’s pretty obvious. I’m thinking of watching “Modern Family” or “The Office” next.

What I’m reading: Hoping to finish Nietzsche’s “Genealogy of Morals” tomorrow on the car ride home.

What I’m doing: Feeling so, so grateful.

Recommended Substack: I really want to see this movie btw 😭