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Creative—content writer, article writer, storyteller and screenwriter @ University of Abuja
Abuja, Nigeria
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Loved for a Moment, Left for a Year
<p>The alarm beeped… and the day still came.</p><p>No different light. No special silence. Just another morning pretending it didn’t know what it meant.</p><p>Soon, the world would start speaking in familiar ways, messages arriving in neat sentences, names that surface once a year with words that sound warm enough to pass as care. Some will mean it. Some will not. And I’ve learned there is no way to tell the difference without lying to yourself.</p><p>They will say “I remembered you.”</p><p>They will say “I wish you the best.”</p><p>And then they will return to forgetting you in the same breath.</p><p>It’s strange how attention gathers around you on a day like this, only to remind you how thin it can be. How easily it disappears when the calendar stops insisting.</p><p>Everyone shows up just enough to be seen as good. Not enough to stay when it matters.</p><p>Not enough to notice what’s actually breaking quietly underneath.</p><p>But I’ve stopped waiting for permanence in people who only visit in moments.</p><p>There is a kind of loneliness that doesn’t look like absence. It looks like presence that doesn’t reach you. Smiles that don’t land. Words that don’t hold weight. Love that exists only when it’s convenient.</p><p>And in the middle of all that noise, I realized something I didn’t want to admit…</p><p>Most people will care loudly for a day, then disappear softly for a year.</p><p>So I stopped measuring myself by who remembered me.</p><p>If care is temporary, I cannot treat it like truth.</p><p>So I sit with myself instead, even when it is quiet, even when it feels a little dark, even when the world feels far away.</p><p>Not because I enjoy it.</p><p>But because I am the only one who stays.</p><p>And maybe that is the only thing that has ever been real.</p><p><br/></p><p>It’s my birthday. 🎂</p>
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