Dillys (@Dillyss3) header
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Storyteller. Real life is often messy and unsatisfying. Gist lover/ blogger 💯 Send in ur deepest stories let's share we keep you completely anonymous 💯

Joined April 2026
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Staying in a place where everyone speaks the same dialect but you can’t <<<< that kind of pain
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Officially a corp member today 🥳🥳🥳
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Oppression everywhere for Lagos Nysc camp 😩 Haven’t seen anyone with Android phone😭 Omo
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Omo
A bus, a POS, a wheelbarrow, and men with nowhere else to be. When the system fails, this is what survival looks like.
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Did you get your desired state abii your plug fall your hands 😩😩
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Every few months 😩😂😂
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Happy new month PCMs Few hours to NYSC call up letter
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Hello Dillyss3 ,my name is Seun, am 41. I run a POS stand at Lugbe market, I’ve been married to my wife for 12yrs. we have three kids and live in a two-bedroom flat in Kubwa. Life wasn’t sweet, but it was steady. My wife runs her tailoring from home.I open my business around 8am
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my mother called me crying; Seun, what did you do to your home? Wale didn’t beat Halima, he just stopped giving her money for food and school fees. he told her “Let the man you’re sleeping with pay for it. Halima’s business is dead now. The women who used to buy from her
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now go to the Igbo woman two stalls away. They say, “We don’t support that kind of woman" and she’s struggling with it. My own business is dying too. My daily profit dropped from 15_20k to less than 5k. I can’t even afford to eat 3 meals a day. My first son is 15yrs,
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They called us “The Fantastic Four” in our lodge at UNIBEN. Me, Chidera, Ife, and Temilade. 300 level. Different departments, one room, one pot, one life. We shared everything — indomie, passwords, heartbreaks. Temilade was the flashiest.
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I went back to school a year later, graduated last year. I still don’t go to hotels. I don’t collect money from strangers. And I don’t celebrate when someone says “I want to bless you.” Temilade, Chidera, Ife i always light a candle for you every Sunday.
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I was in that room. I drank the Coke, I don’t know why I lived. Maybe God needed one person to tell the story. Maybe He just wasn’t done with me yet.
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