By: Onuchukwu Uchechukwu Esther
Dear Diary, It’s Me Again.
It’s been a few weeks since Valentine’s Day, and yet, I still feel the weight of it. Not in the way you’d expect—not in the afterglow of love, nor in the bitterness of disappointment. Just… in reflection.
For some, Valentine’s was a grand affair—expensive gifts, romantic getaways, love on full display. For others, it was a quiet celebration—a heartfelt note, a shared meal, a knowing glance. Mine? Well, mine left me with questions. Did I expect too much? Did my partner forget? Should love always be a spectacle?
At first, I thought I had every right to be upset. The day came and went with no over-the-top surprises, no picture-perfect moments. Just a simple gift and a message that read: I love you, always.
I should have been grateful. Instead, I let comparison steal my joy. The images online, the perfect love stories flashing before me—I wanted that. And in wanting more, I forgot to see the love I already had.
I started a fight that day. One I didn’t need to. One that chipped away at something beautiful. You didn’t try hard enough, I said. You don’t love me the way you should. Words spoken in frustration, words I can’t take back.
And just like that, I pushed love away.
The days that followed were filled with silence. Not the comfortable kind. The hollow, aching kind. And in that silence, I realized something: I wasn’t upset because I wasn’t loved. I was upset because I had forgotten how to love myself.
I had handed my happiness to someone else, expecting them to fill a void I hadn’t cared to fill on my own. And when they didn’t do it the way I imagined, I resented them for it. But love—real love—was never meant to be a performance. It was never meant to be measured against strangers on the internet.
So, here I am, weeks later, choosing differently. Choosing to let go of the expectations that stole my joy. Choosing to see love for what it is, not just for how loudly it is expressed. Choosing to love myself, because when I do, I won’t need someone else to prove my worth—I’ll already know it.
I pick up my phone, but not to scroll, not to compare. To say I’m sorry. To acknowledge the love that was always there. Maybe it’s too late, maybe it isn’t. But what I do know is this—loving me allows me to love better.
This International Women’s Day, let’s remember that love isn’t just about what we receive—it’s also about what we give, especially to ourselves. Sometimes, we get so caught up in expectations that we forget to appreciate the love that already surrounds us. But when we choose to love ourselves first, everything else falls into place.
And that’s a love worth having.