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4 hrs agoIn the heart of a small town just outside Nairobi, lived a 25-year-old girl named Liah. Life had humbled her in ways she couldn’t explain — no job, no degree yet, and society constantly reminding her of the timelines she was supposed to follow.
She had dreams bigger than her circumstances. Some nights, she’d cry herself to sleep wondering why things were taking so long. Other nights, she’d stay up making vision boards, whispering prayers to a God she hoped hadn’t forgotten her.
Liah wasn’t lazy. She’d applied to hundreds of jobs. No replies. She'd even tried "proper careers," but they didn’t fulfill her. What made her feel alive was creating — filming her shower routines, organizing her space, vlogging her small wins, dancing alone in her room and sharing it with the world. Slowly, without even realizing it, she was building something. A brand. A version of herself that was more than society’s expectations.
She lived on a budget. Every shilling counted. But she knew how to turn “small” into “special.” She’d turn her room into a sanctuary with soft lighting, printed quotes, and thrifted pieces that made it hers. She taught herself how to edit videos on her phone, how to market herself online, and how to survive the quiet days when no one was watching.
People started to notice. A few views turned into hundreds. Then thousands. Brands didn’t knock yet — but the belief in herself grew louder than the silence from the world.
Men came. Some wanted to use her. Others promised to help but only if she gave something in return. But Liah was done with shortcuts. She was building legacy, not moments.
One day, she looked in the mirror and smiled — not because she had “made it,” but because she hadn’t given up.
She was still broke. Still figuring things out. But something about her had changed — her mind, her heart, her drive. She no longer needed to prove anything. She was becoming her.