Is Shagamu Overrated? A Reality Check for Newcomers

okay, i spotted myself here-somewhere between dust and forgotten paths. the neighborhood once buzzed with footsteps, now it’s just crumpled floorboards. rent’s got a soul, but the landlord’s got more patience than a toddler with a joke. i radioactive from the low crime but dodge the undertows in summer. a local says the only thing ghosts there are the regrets people steal them. i tried glossing over that, but i kept wondering if this place exists just to make others feel enough to care. found a café with a pocketful of stale pretzels and a sign that says 'closed since '27'. yet here i linger, chasing ghosts like they’re real. that kind of city, i think, needs no apology-just accepts you’re too busy to belong. i’d boycott my own pride until i learn what belonging really costs.

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