Rejection is Fuel: A Love Letter from the Universe

by Similoluwa Ifedayo

It has been over a month since my last article. I could blame deadlines, schedules, or the tyranny of life itself. The truth is simpler. I stepped away from the Nigerian reality. That messy, chaotic, exhausting, exhilarating reality that asks if you truly want more, if you are willing to fight for it, if you can survive simply by asking. Reality does not negotiate with ambition, it tests it.

I retreated for a while into simpler spaces, lighter thoughts, and less serious posts. I needed to breathe before I could scream. Sometimes survival is measured by your ability to pause without surrendering.

To finish this essay, I had to speak with one of the most brilliant young men in my space, Oladotun Ajayi. He reminded me why he does what he does, why strong foundations matter, and why great things are built deliberately, not accidentally. He reminded me that this story matters. That persistence is not just stubbornness—it is refusing to let the world write your story for you.

Earlier this year, I received a fully funded invitation as a Commonwealth Correspondent to a Commonwealth event in London. I thought I had mapped everything, as if ambition were a GPS that never failed. In February, I wrote Nigeria, We Need to Talk, which earned Editor’s Pick. My plan was to continue that conversation from London, representing my country while listening to voices that spanned continents, voices carrying ideas that could reshape the world. Planning is seductive. Execution is brutal.

Maybe I’ll continue it next year—Commonwealth, call me.

I imagined rooms where influence was measured not by struggle but by impact. Where ambition was never audited by circumstance, bureaucracy, or disbelief. Where doors opened because of what you could do, not who you knew. Dreams do not care about credentials, they care about courage.

Then reality reminded me that life does not always owe me a good plot twist. My visa was denied. Three words can rewrite weeks of preparation. That was all it took to dismantle hope. I had spent money. Convinced my university it was worth missing exams and being rescheduled. Bought clothes for meetings that I never attended. I thought effort alone was enough but it was not. The world does not owe you recognition; it owes you as much as you demand, not even what you want.

In that moment, I wanted to scream, to shake the universe until it coughed up fairness. But I could not. Exams waited. Law internship waited. Life marched on. And so did I. Sometimes the strongest thing you can do is keep walking while your heart shouts. That day, I learned that chasing permission is wasted energy.

I understood something crucial. Dreams do not die because they are impossible. They die because reality starves them of air. Being young in Nigeria means carrying more than your dreams. You carry history, corruption, poverty, and the leftovers of other people’s decisions. You carry hope you did not volunteer for. Survival is not resignation, it is defiance dressed as patience.

Effort will not always save you. Talent will not always open doors. Being good will not guarantee anything. Some people get ahead because they refuse to wait their turn. I learned that sometimes the only way to win is to invent your own rules. Stop asking nicely. Build your own doors.

Ambition is not polite. It is rebellion dressed as hunger. It breaks rules, creates shortcuts, and builds ladders out of rejection letters. Ambition observes, learns, and interrupts the system that ignored it. Ambition is a spark in a room full of matches. It only needs courage to ignite a fire. Standing outside waiting for permission is wasted energy. Refusing to wait and building your own entrance is where change begins.

For me, disappointment became a teacher, not an enemy. Patience is not waiting quietly, it is plotting loudly in your head while pretending to wait. As Bukola Aladesulu says, “We will not fade into darkness.” I believe and hold unto her words. But here’s what you should know: refusing to fade is not enough. You must burn bright enough to make the darkness blink first. Patience without strategy is wasted breath.

From my experience, I learned this: Stop chasing visibility. Chase usefulness. Stop begging to be noticed. Be undeniable. Pray for open doors, but also break hinges, build windows, and dig tunnels. Stop curating your pain for sympathy. Weaponise it for strategy. Stop waiting for opportunities. Become the one people wait for. Some dreams require anger. Some progress demands boldness. Being enough does not mean staying soft.

Growth does not always look like arrival. Sometimes it looks like defiance. Keep learning. Keep dreaming. Keep being dangerous in your ambition. Keep refusing to shrink to make small people comfortable. Be human. Be unignorable. Being unignorable is the work of persistence and audacity combined.

As David Dosu, my crazy friend and one of the world’s most brilliant talents says, “Everything good will come.” Maybe it will. But it will only come to those who refuse to apologise for wanting it loudly. I hope everything good comes to you.