you were never my first crush. i’m certain because i remember some guys i admired and crushed on before i met you.

but you were my first love… i think.

you see, i still can’t quite grasp what love for someone other than my family actually feels like. i am certain, though, that what i felt for you was the closest thing there is to love.

the feelings i had for you were strong. they were different from how i’ve felt about others. uncanny and special, in their own way. just like you.

how a little crush on you grew into that still baffles my cranium to this day.

it was probably 7 or 8 years ago that we first met, right? i’m big on first impressions, but how ironic is it that i can’t clearly remember our first encounter? was i too young, or was i too into you to remember?

i can’t remember the context, but my heart remembers the emotions.

i remember how giddy i always felt whenever you were around. i lowkey liked it when my friends and your friends would tease me about you.

i remember always bringing up my first crush to you in an attempt to make you jealous.

i remember calling you every day for a particular period of time with my mum’s second phone after making sure she was comfortably settled in the living room with my dad and wouldn’t come into her room to find me giggling and kicking my feet in the air while talking to you.

i don’t remember who was shyer between the two of us. it was probably you, i reckon. but yes, i remember how shy we’d be in person in contrast to how open and comfortable we were during our phone calls.

i remember how shy i always got whenever either of your parents came to pick you up while i was around and i’d go greet them. they seemed to know who i was from our very first meetings.

the girl you were always speaking to every night.

the girl who once called you at our usual time only to hear your mum’s voice telling me she was away from home but would relay my message to you.

of course, they knew me. 😂

what i liked most about you then was probably your innocence. you were pure and kind, far different from the other guys.

you were adorable, and it’s quite crazy to have watched you grow over the years.

everyone knew we liked each other, and i liked it that way. because then the other girls would know better than to try to get close to you.

we went years feeling this way about each other.

i remember getting tired of the fact that you didn’t want to date until after we finished school.

i got tired, and we drifted.

i dated other people, and i’m sure you did too. but i think we both still knew, deep down, how we felt.

it’s scary to admit that i may have loved you because i’d also have to accept the fact that someone i loved changed so much that my feelings towards him had to change too.

the person you are today isn’t the person i was “in love” with all those years ago.

i get that people change, but you changed way too much.

i also changed, but it was like you became a completely different person. someone i couldn’t even recognize anymore.

i may have loved who you were before, but unfortunately, that version no longer exists.

and just like that, our story came to an end.

now, we’re actually friends. more like acquaintances than friends, to be honest.

and i’m certain it’s impossible for me to ever feel the same way about you again.

but tonight, nostalgia hit. a picture i saw a few hours ago reminded me of moments and memories that brought you back to mind.

and at this moment, i can’t help but wonder:

where would we be today if you hadn’t changed so much?

would i have still gotten over you?

or would we have actually stood a chance? growing together and becoming even closer and more inseparable?

would i have finally known what it means to love someone who isn’t family?

but that’s the thing about questions like these.

they can’t be answered.

because what was meant to happen happened.

and now i’m here asking questions i’ll never get answers to.

we just weren’t meant to be.

and to be honest, i’m excited to meet the person i’m actually meant to be with.

if what i felt for you was anything close to love, then what i’ll feel for my person will be a thousandfold greater than that.

i know i’m capable of love, and i know my person is somewhere out there.

i know that when i meet him, i’ll know. i just will.

i know i’ll love this person the way i love my family.

maybe even more.

and it will be the greatest love story ever.

maybe not in your books, but definitely in mine.

sincerely,

the girl who “loved” the old you.

a year ago, i had painted a picture of my ideal type in my head. (i’ll spare you the list. i refuse to help someone audition for the role with bad intentions.) so when i met someone this year who checked every single box, i fell. fast and hard.

leaving names out of it, in the hope that he never sees this, let’s call him D.

initially, D was someone i’d only heard about because he and his brother were known for being smart lads, but we’d never actually met. after i came across his linkedin profile, i sent him an invite to connect, which he accepted not long after. some time passed before i eventually reached out with the intention of getting some information for a friend (which i later felt a bit guilty about). that conversation, four months ago, led to us exchanging numbers, a phone call the next day, and eventually talking regularly.

i had no intention of falling for D. but in retrospect, it was probably inevitable. cos how do you not fall for someone who’s your exact type on paper?

D was comfortable enough to tell me anything, and i could tell. that only made me like him more.

the biggest, and really the only, ick i had was his terrible texting habits. sometimes he wouldn’t reply for days, then come back responding to messages i’d sent two to four days earlier, continuing conversations i’d already moved on from. it always pissed me off, and he knew it. he’d explain that he was like that with everyone and that people around him constantly complained about it. i hate late replies, so the fact that i kept trying to be understanding speaks volumes about how much i liked him.

D would always call me out of nowhere. as much as i acted like it irritated me, and as much as i hate to admit it, i lowkey liked those random calls.

then one night, we had a deep conversation. he admitted that he had a habit of becoming overly friendly with girls. whenever he got close to one, he’d become giddy, a little flirtatious, and only realize it later before trying to dial it back. it didn’t take me long to realize that was exactly what had happened with us. except this time, there was nothing for him to backtrack from.

D saw me as a close friend. he still does.

i’ve spent months trying to make peace with that.

for a while, i thought i had. looking back, though, i had only buried my feelings beneath academic obligations. once all of that was over, i realized i wasn’t over him after all.

D is someone i genuinely want in my life, whether as a friend or something more. he has qualities i admire and traits i’d love to emulate.

i find myself wanting to tell him everything. my highs, my lows, and everything in between.

i’ve been trying to convince myself that friendship is enough. some days i believe it. other days, i don’t.

if i’m being honest, this would probably be easier if i could just walk away completely. but he’s someone i value deeply, and losing this friendship would hurt too.

i read arike’s recent piece here titled, “he’s just not that into you,” yesterday, and it gave me the push to finally put these thoughts into words. writing this has made me accept something i think i already knew.

D just isn’t into me.

and that’s okay.

i’ve unapologetically friendzoned people, cut people off, and ended conversations with men because i simply wasn’t attracted to them. so i also have to learn to eat what i serve others.

i haven’t liked someone this much in almost two years. if anything, this whole sitch has reminded me that i’m not a rock. i’m still capable of feeling deeply, and i think that’s something to be grateful for.

D is an amazing person who deserves the world.

but i need to remind myself that i do too.

and as much as i care about him, i can’t picture myself with someone who unintentionally flirts with almost every girl he meets and ends up hurting people in the process.

i deserve better than that.

lo que tenga que ser, será.

(what is meant to be, will be.)

so lesson one on how to stop liking a friend?

put yourself first.

i’m 16 minutes into the movie, and i had to pause it to write this.

in those 16 minutes, i established that jill and isabelle are sisters. very close. practically bound at the hip. isabelle has been sick for a long, long time. and then she dies. her funeral comes around. a misty-eyed jill stands at the podium, reading a eulogy for her sister.

at that scene, i paused.

i had to.

i felt myself about to cry.

you see, i’m always so emotional whenever a character loses someone they have a personal relationship with in a movie or series. most times, it feels like i’m the one who just lost someone, and i end up feeling everything that character is feeling.

i’ve come to the realization that the reason i feel this so deeply is because of my own grief. because every time this happens, i’m crying over someone i lost years ago, not actually over the person who died in the movie or series.

it’s always like i’m reliving the grief all over again.

no matter how much i try to convince myself that i’m over it, i’m not.

i’ve realized i keep lying to myself.

why is grief so difficult to overcome?

is breaking down randomly supposed to be normal?

because sometimes i remember them, smile, and find myself talking to them as though they’re still here.

and sometimes the memories are unbearable.

why can’t i watch this particular scene of jill talking about her dead sister without feeling like i want to cry? without feeling the same pain i felt at that terrible moment in my own life?

i think people around me have this perception that i make everything about my grief.

i don’t.

i really don’t.

i try my best not to.

but i guess i just feel too deeply.

i reckon it’s because i loved them.

too, too, too much.

and i always will.

whether they’re here or not.

a 12-year-old goes to see a gynecologist to complain about having irregular periods, and the first thing they do is tell her she has PCOS and put her on birth control pills for years to “regulate her period” until she’s ready to try for kids, which doesn’t even work out for a lot of people.

they’re rarely told about the health risks that can come with taking these pills long-term: increased risks of strokes, blood clots, heart attacks, and certain cancers.

“it’s safe though. the risks are low.”

birth control side effect lists are so long they can be used as blankets. and i’m not exaggerating. some are literally mini booklets.

you’ll be told the pills will make you get your period every month, whereas all you’ll really be getting is a withdrawal bleed, not an actual period. huge difference.

and then after getting off the pills, it can take months, sometimes even years, for your actual period to return.

why am i so pissed about this? last month, i asked if i could be vulnerable here, so i guess i will be.

in february this year, i went to see a gynecologist, and five minutes into the consultation i was told, “it’s likely PCOS.”

doctors follow the rotterdam criteria when diagnosing certain conditions—you’re supposed to meet two out of three criteria.

in this case, at least two of these need to be present:

• irregular or absent periods

• high male hormone levels/symptoms (excess hair, acne, or hair loss)

• polycystic ovaries on ultrasound

the only symptoms i have are acne and irregular periods. so that became my diagnosis. a diagnosis i can never accept.

because there are other conditions with similar symptoms. hypothalamic imbalance, thyroid imbalance, hormonal immaturity, and high prolactin can all cause these symptoms too. so why is PCOS always the final conclusion?

it’s called polycystic ovary syndrome for a reason. if i have no cysts, why is that my condition?

i guess the only bright side of the name change is that it helps people better understand that it’s more of a hormonal and metabolic issue than just a gynecological one.

my biggest issue overall is honestly how quickly doctors prescribe birth control pills to young girls, knowing there’s a possibility of long-term effects.

this is my third month on birth control pills to “regulate my period,” and my experience hasn’t exactly been great. you know when you just know you’re not okay?

i genuinely haven’t felt like myself since i got on these pills. the mental health struggles and risk of depression that can come with hormonal contraceptives are genuinely not talked about enough.

the internet is filled with people sharing different experiences with birth control. some positive, some negative.

i guess the only positive thing about them for me is the reduced masculinity preference i reckon i’m experiencing. and please, let me explain. 🤣

i made a new friend the same month i started taking these pills, and at some point i started to like him. several studies have shown that hormonal birth control can influence women to prefer men with less masculine, lower-testosterone features over highly masculine traits. and honestly, that’s the only explanation for that short-lived crush i’m choosing to believe until further notice. 😭

these pills have worked well for some people and terribly for others. even my gynecologist told me, “hopefully this works for you.”

all i can do is pray.

so God, i’m trusting You. ❤️

you go to a private university and your vocabulary is shit.

words my sister said to me two years ago that changed the trajectory of my life.

i always saw myself as an average student, with no will to be academically serious. my family saw something more in me, and i didn’t really understand why.

to be honest, i entered university mentally broken. i had just lost my dad a year before. i realized i was born to be an actor, cos i could pretend i was fine for a very long time, when in reality, i wasn’t.

my dad and i had planned my life. i was a daddy’s girl, you see, as my mum seemed to love her sons more. so after his demise, i didn’t see the point in following those plans anymore. cos at the end of the day, most of them were what he wanted for me, and i had always thought to myself “daddy knows best”.

my first and second years in uni were filled with constant nagging from my family. “i’m disappointed in you” was lowkey an anthem. i thugged it out though, cos i really didn’t know any better, to be honest.

i had bad experiences with almost everyone around me then. my ‘best friend’, who i thought would always have my back, didn’t. people i thought were close to me made me feel like a charity case, or at least, that’s how i interpreted it.

“we were there for you when your best friend ditched you,” one of them once said to me, which made me assume so. seeing how i still remember that statement, it definitely hurt me.

towards the end of my second year, after my sister had said those words to me, i began to think differently. “if daddy was still alive, would he be proud of me? would he genuinely like the people i call my friends?” deep down, i already knew the answers to those questions.

i got tired of feeling like a disappointment. i lost interest in the things i enjoyed doing and started focusing on why i was actually in school.

“all work and no play makes jack a dull boy,” they say. parties, drinking, smoking, failing in class—i had had enough play for sure.

i’m definitely not proud of my past, but as apostle emmanuel iren once said, “your past makes your present more beautiful.”

fast forward to today, i’m currently in the final semester of my final year in university. i’ve met the most incredible people who have pushed me to realize i’m actually not stupid. i’ve had first-class GPAs back-to-back for four semesters in a row—something that once felt impossible. i’ve grown to love excellence so much that seeing anything less than an A in my results irks me and makes me so sad.

“congratulations” and “i’m proud of you, eniola” became the new anthems.

i’ve become used to being called a nerd. people actually hear me speak, read what i write, and call me smart.

i discovered CCI—the biggest blessing in my life. a church that became a home. i grew closer to God, and this is the strongest my relationship with Him has ever been.

today, i can sit down and ask myself those same questions again: “if daddy was still alive, would he be proud of me? would he genuinely like the people i call my friends?”

and best believe, i already know the answers. ❤️

today, i want to talk about love.

it’s the one thing that must be spoken about. it’s everywhere. and i’m not just talking about loving a person. i mean loving things, moments, and life itself. those four little words carry so much weight. they are words that shouldn’t be used lightly.

but talking about this in just the aspect of human beings, is it necessary to fall in love with another? social media portrays love as a beautiful thing. when we see couples outside, we’re like “they look so cute together”, “God when?” and all that. the world makes it look like it is necessary to love. it makes it look like it is easy to fall in love. whereas it is a 50/50 gamble. you either end up extremely happy, or extremely sad.

i think of love as a beautiful feeling, somewhat dangerous though. i have a notion that every human wants to fall in love. everyone wants to experience the feeling of love. but when you try, and try, and try, and try so hard, you eventually get tired. you then agree with what the universe wants for you. what feels like your reality – loneliness. you attempt to deny it, you break down, and then you accept it. you accept that you are meant to be lonely. you embrace yourself. you embrace God. you love yourself till the end, until the loneliness departs. now, it doesn’t sound so bad. doesn’t sound so terrible, right?

i HATE how easily the world presents love. when you envy something so much, you’ll begin to hate it. you’ll begin to despise it. you’ll begin to lose faith and all hope in finding “THE ONE”. i’m beginning to find myself here; so close to loathing the concept of love and giving up.

i yearn to love sometimes, but at the same time i find myself timid. i’m afraid. i don’t know how people give their partners their full trust and live with them forever. i want that for myself, although i find it all too good to be true. because how can one be faithful till the end? how can one be ready to trust another with all their heart? is that love at its peak? or is that just foolishness?

i am confused. i am indecisive. i am pessimistic. i am not living in the life i envisioned. i want to stop questioning love. i want to find a reason to stop questioning love.

honestly, I WANT TO LOVE.