On Letting Others See You - by Oluwatobi Kolawole

Written: 2 December 2025.We do not exist on our own. Not really. We come into focus only when someone notices us, when a pair of eyes settles long enough to say we are here. Our words drift in the air until another person gathers them into meaning. And to sit among friends is to feel ourselves return again and again. Their memory of us, their small acts of care, their deliberate insistence that they know who we are. It is enough sometimes to lift us from the dullness we sink into, enough to remind us that we are still living. We can resist it for as long as we want, arguing about the comfort of being alone, insisting that solitude is enough. But it is still true. To be loved is to live inside the gaze of another person. Every gesture held their attention, every small thing made larger because they saw it. And for me, that is what softens the weight of being here. The simple knowledge that there are people who choose to notice me. People who pay attention without being prompted, without incentives, without the noise of ads or reminders. Just freely. I think friendship begins here. In the subtle moment when seeing someone becomes a kind of privilege. Even with all our differences, all our strange preferences, something starts when we are allowed to witness another person’s life. You watch them find joy. You watch them unravel. You watch them fall in love, and then unravel again. You watch their seasons change, one after another. And most of the time, you cannot alter any part of what they are moving through. You can only see it, hold the shape of it, and stay. They would celebrate new jobs and grieve the interviews that slipped through their fingers. Through it all, you would watch life unfold around them, sometimes softly, sometimes without mercy. And you would see the way they respond, doing the best they can, shaping themselves around whatever comes. Perhaps the frailty of existence is already evident in nature’s proof that a man cannot bring a child into the world on his own, that life itself insists on partnership. Maybe codependency is not a flaw but the anchor we lean on to stay steady. To let someone rely on you. And to allow yourself to lean back, to depend on another in return. No one can be entirely independent of other people, not in any real or lasting way. So why not stop trying? Why not move in the opposite direction? Depend on people for the small things and the big things. Let them lean on you, too. Why not. And it is comforting, because when we think about loving people, truly loving them, the first task is to see them as a source of joy in your life. Some may disagree, but it feels natural that the person you love carries a part of your happiness with them. Not all of it, not your entire world, but a piece that matters. I think that is what steadies a relationship. While extremes exist, the heart of it is this: to place the core of your happiness in the hands of another. To trust, to believe, to hope that they will handle it gently, that they will carry it with care. The recent trend of nonchalance creeping into friendships and even relationships might suggest otherwise. Still, I think it is a good place to begin anything meaningful — to offer a large portion of what makes you happy and fold it into the life of another person, however bright and wonderful they appear. Also, maybe we need people because people inevitably need us back. The world can feel like a place overflowing with need, and when someone suffers, it is easy to think that someone, somewhere, is failing to do what they could to ease it. It could be anything — lending a hand, offering a hug, or simply being there to listen. The other side of all this is numbness. I remember once someone posted a picture of his wife just weeks after they were married. He said life had become easier since she arrived. And it made sense. It has been almost five years since then, and he still speaks of her in that same light. Maybe that is what we all need — to loosen our hold on life itself. To breathe and find some solace in one thing, one person, and not grow weary. I wish it were that simple. Author’s Note The festive season is here again. At the office the other day, a Christmas tree was set up right after the spinning door, greeting everyone before they even settled in. And yet, adulthood has dulled the thrill. It feels like any other month, another stretch of work, another set of obligations, another month with holidays we barely notice. The city hums along in its usual warmth. Harmattan has not arrived yet, and I am not sure I am ready for it. Still, a change would not be unwelcome, even if only for a month. Somewhere in that thought, it hit me. I moved into this apartment five years ago. Gratitude pulls at me. Friends gathered my first rent when I had no work, no steady income. They made that time lighter, easier. I will never forget it. I will never stop owing them, in ways words can barely hold.

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