Somewhere in Lagos, my family and everyone that knew me believes I drowned three years ago at the beach with my body undiscovered. But I am somewhere in the Netherlands living with a trailer load of peace and blessings, a table spoon of anxiety and a pinch of guilt. If it didn’t happen, my family would have eventually killed me with family responsibilities that a 27 year old doesn’t deserve to carry. Now everyone can work and do things to make money, something they never did when I was “alive.”