"I gave myself to Claire - most parts of myself I intertwined my reality with her destiny because when you love someone and you know you're not enough you give them everything. You give them everything till you have nothing left."
I feel this in ways I wish I didn’t. It’s like reading the inside of my own chest, like you just put words to the kind of love that leaves you hollow. I know exactly what it’s like to love someone so deeply, so fully, that you start handing over parts of yourself like gifts, hoping they’ll finally see your worth in them. Not because they asked for it, necessarily—but because somewhere inside, you believe that if you love hard enough, maybe just maybe, it’ll make up for all the places you think you fall short.
And you don’t even notice when it starts happening. It’s slow. You give a little here, a little more there. You start shrinking your needs, biting your tongue, reshaping your dreams to fit theirs. You confuse sacrifice with devotion. You think that being empty must mean you loved right. But what no one tells you is that loving someone with everything doesn’t guarantee they’ll stay. It doesn’t guarantee they’ll see you. Sometimes, they just take and take because they don’t realize how much it’s costing you—or worse, because they do and they take anyway.
And then one day, you wake up and you’re just... drained. You don’t even recognize yourself. You’re exhausted in a way that sleep can’t fix. And what’s wild is that you don’t even regret loving them. You just wish someone had loved you like that in return. That someone would’ve seen the cracks forming and told you that love isn’t supposed to leave you with nothing.
So yes, I’ve been there. And I wouldn’t wish that kind of love on anyone—not because it isn’t real, but because it’s the kind that asks too much of you and never knows how to give it back.
Wow, Tobiloba—this is honestly one of the most moving pieces I’ve read in a while. The way you layered memory, love, betrayal, and identity is so raw and real. I felt every moment—from the delicate way your father looked at your mother, to the quiet heartbreak with Halimat, to the almost mythical peace you found with Claire. The recurring theme of dreams tied to infidelity? That was genius. It gave the whole piece a haunting, almost spiritual weight. And the characters—each one so alive, so flawed, so vivid. You didn’t just tell a story, you made me feel it. This was beautifully written. Thank you for sharing something so personal and powerful.
I read this yesterday but I wanted to take my time before replying. Some stories shouldn’t be answered too quickly—not because they’re hard to understand, but because they deserve to be felt .Like the kind of rain that comes slow and steady, the type that soaks the ground properly, not just the surface.
Your story feels like something old and powerful, like something passed down. You didn’t just tell us what happened—you let us feel what it meant. It’s honest. It’s raw. It reminds me of the kind of truths my Dad whispered when I had gone to bed.
The way you talk about women—it isn’t sweet talk, and it isn’t bitter either. It’s deep. It’s real. Like something you learned from watching people too closely, or from carrying memories that aren’t even fully yours. You write like someone who knows desire, not just as feeling, but as a kind of calling Something you inherit. Something you survive.
You didn’t force the words. You let them breathe. And that’s why they hit so hard.
Njideka, Halimat, Claire—they’re not just people. They’re markers in your life. Like signposts on the road to becoming. You loved them, you lost them, and you learned from all of it. That’s what makes this story more than a love story. It’s a story of growth. Of pain. Of self-discovery.
And this line—“How dare you not cheat on me?” —that’s not just madness. That’s deep confusion mixed with longing. That’s the sadness of a man who only knows how to win through loss. Who only sees clearly when his heart is breaking.
This was so beautifully written. I could tell that this story had pieces of you in it. The unexpected plot twist with Halima had me going from crying to being absolutely livid! I've never been so engrossed in a story. I love how you play with my emotions, it's literally a rollercoaster 😂😂😂! And, Hi Tobiloba, I hope you had a great day like I did, because you definitely made mine! 💘💘💘
It's how Ifem knew that aunty Efe was foolish at such a young age but didn't realize his own foolishness. It wasn't just love that was passed down. maybe the foolishness is in the blood too🙂
Honestly, this is a beautiful piece🤭🤭
It felt so real and that "almost white" part? there's no denial that's more than that. Could you write another story about how aunty Efe's Cheryl fought with her identity, please?🤲
Or I could write it and you'll check it out. Might turn out to be my first Substack note.
I love the way you described your love for Claire so pure so raw so relatable it’s a bittersweet feeling because it all happens in a way you won’t regret no matter the outcome
For me I think it’s because our definition of love is different like way way different
I always feel I love more than I’m loved like I’m not even loved at all just because I’m not loved the way I do
Honestly I don’t expect everyone to love like me because I don’t think my kind of love is healthy why do I have to love someone so bad my whole entire being depends on that person like I deposited a whole dump of myself the day I decided I want to love this person parts of myself that i would never be able to get back even after unloving the person
In the persons pov he’s probably loving the best way he can and feel he’s actually making me feel loved but people that empty themselves into love deserves to be filled in return by love.
Your mind must be a very happy place, alive with echoes of metaphors, musings, and mischief. each time a story begins to bloom. I imagine the fingers that typed these words dancing across the keys in quiet triumph, wiggling in literary euphoria.
The way you invited the words out to play, gave them room to stretch, to laugh, to linger, it's nothing short of masterful. I especially loved the suspenseful build-up to the exam twist, holding us gently in your grip, only to reveal that you dreamed the English questions. Who does that? Only a writer kissed by the muses.
Your narrative dexterity is stunning, this is the kind of writing that makes readers pause, smile, and reread.
"I gave myself to Claire - most parts of myself I intertwined my reality with her destiny because when you love someone and you know you're not enough you give them everything. You give them everything till you have nothing left."
I feel this in ways I wish I didn’t. It’s like reading the inside of my own chest, like you just put words to the kind of love that leaves you hollow. I know exactly what it’s like to love someone so deeply, so fully, that you start handing over parts of yourself like gifts, hoping they’ll finally see your worth in them. Not because they asked for it, necessarily—but because somewhere inside, you believe that if you love hard enough, maybe just maybe, it’ll make up for all the places you think you fall short.
And you don’t even notice when it starts happening. It’s slow. You give a little here, a little more there. You start shrinking your needs, biting your tongue, reshaping your dreams to fit theirs. You confuse sacrifice with devotion. You think that being empty must mean you loved right. But what no one tells you is that loving someone with everything doesn’t guarantee they’ll stay. It doesn’t guarantee they’ll see you. Sometimes, they just take and take because they don’t realize how much it’s costing you—or worse, because they do and they take anyway.
And then one day, you wake up and you’re just... drained. You don’t even recognize yourself. You’re exhausted in a way that sleep can’t fix. And what’s wild is that you don’t even regret loving them. You just wish someone had loved you like that in return. That someone would’ve seen the cracks forming and told you that love isn’t supposed to leave you with nothing.
So yes, I’ve been there. And I wouldn’t wish that kind of love on anyone—not because it isn’t real, but because it’s the kind that asks too much of you and never knows how to give it back.
you’re so amazing oluwatofunmi. your ability to feel and express yourself like this. in such a way. so remarkable 💘
This is so so beautiful ❤️
It's like you read the words ingrained deep in my heart and I relate so much to this.
I love this!
You wrote this so clearly!
Wow, Tobiloba—this is honestly one of the most moving pieces I’ve read in a while. The way you layered memory, love, betrayal, and identity is so raw and real. I felt every moment—from the delicate way your father looked at your mother, to the quiet heartbreak with Halimat, to the almost mythical peace you found with Claire. The recurring theme of dreams tied to infidelity? That was genius. It gave the whole piece a haunting, almost spiritual weight. And the characters—each one so alive, so flawed, so vivid. You didn’t just tell a story, you made me feel it. This was beautifully written. Thank you for sharing something so personal and powerful.
this review is so beautifully written, i’m in awe of your ability to read between the lines and pick up the little things. thank you 💘
Thank you so much for your kind words.
I truly appreciate your thoughtful response.
It means a lot to know that the deeper layers of the piece came through😊😊
Your writing carries a rare depth and intentionality.
it’s a privilege to engage with it.
Please keep sharing your voice; it holds power and purpose.
Tobi
Too beautifully written.. your writing style is almost similar to chiamanda
I read this yesterday but I wanted to take my time before replying. Some stories shouldn’t be answered too quickly—not because they’re hard to understand, but because they deserve to be felt .Like the kind of rain that comes slow and steady, the type that soaks the ground properly, not just the surface.
Your story feels like something old and powerful, like something passed down. You didn’t just tell us what happened—you let us feel what it meant. It’s honest. It’s raw. It reminds me of the kind of truths my Dad whispered when I had gone to bed.
The way you talk about women—it isn’t sweet talk, and it isn’t bitter either. It’s deep. It’s real. Like something you learned from watching people too closely, or from carrying memories that aren’t even fully yours. You write like someone who knows desire, not just as feeling, but as a kind of calling Something you inherit. Something you survive.
You didn’t force the words. You let them breathe. And that’s why they hit so hard.
Njideka, Halimat, Claire—they’re not just people. They’re markers in your life. Like signposts on the road to becoming. You loved them, you lost them, and you learned from all of it. That’s what makes this story more than a love story. It’s a story of growth. Of pain. Of self-discovery.
And this line—“How dare you not cheat on me?” —that’s not just madness. That’s deep confusion mixed with longing. That’s the sadness of a man who only knows how to win through loss. Who only sees clearly when his heart is breaking.
You wrote something strong. And yes it’s very you
This is good!!
Thank you very much
Like Charles and Philips again, was halimat trying to spite him or what?😂😂😂
This was really good writing tobe
tobe. Good one
also the last child’s name was ifem. which is tobiloba’s actual first name 😂💘
Definitely intentional then😂😂
I love halima for doing that 🤣🤣she’s such a character 🤣
I had to reread it to know if what I was reading was true. Talk about a plot twist😂
This was so beautifully written. I could tell that this story had pieces of you in it. The unexpected plot twist with Halima had me going from crying to being absolutely livid! I've never been so engrossed in a story. I love how you play with my emotions, it's literally a rollercoaster 😂😂😂! And, Hi Tobiloba, I hope you had a great day like I did, because you definitely made mine! 💘💘💘
You did well my Tobaby,you should write more friction.
I had a very long day and I’m so tired,how’s your day going too?
I love you my tobabyyy.💘❤️🫂
It's how Ifem knew that aunty Efe was foolish at such a young age but didn't realize his own foolishness. It wasn't just love that was passed down. maybe the foolishness is in the blood too🙂
Honestly, this is a beautiful piece🤭🤭
It felt so real and that "almost white" part? there's no denial that's more than that. Could you write another story about how aunty Efe's Cheryl fought with her identity, please?🤲
Or I could write it and you'll check it out. Might turn out to be my first Substack note.
Again, this is a beautiful piece ❤️
Love doesn't simply end after a breakup or a death.
very deep
I love the way you described your love for Claire so pure so raw so relatable it’s a bittersweet feeling because it all happens in a way you won’t regret no matter the outcome
For me I think it’s because our definition of love is different like way way different
I always feel I love more than I’m loved like I’m not even loved at all just because I’m not loved the way I do
Honestly I don’t expect everyone to love like me because I don’t think my kind of love is healthy why do I have to love someone so bad my whole entire being depends on that person like I deposited a whole dump of myself the day I decided I want to love this person parts of myself that i would never be able to get back even after unloving the person
In the persons pov he’s probably loving the best way he can and feel he’s actually making me feel loved but people that empty themselves into love deserves to be filled in return by love.
'If I love a flower and do not pluck it, i let it grow and admire it from afar' this part struck so hard
This letter felt so real, like sitting with someone who’s just telling you their truth without holding back.
I could feel every moment, every shift in love and life. It’s so raw, so personal, and honestly just really good.
You wrote with your chest, and I felt it in my bones.
Thank you for letting us see you T baby 💕
Your mind must be a very happy place, alive with echoes of metaphors, musings, and mischief. each time a story begins to bloom. I imagine the fingers that typed these words dancing across the keys in quiet triumph, wiggling in literary euphoria.
The way you invited the words out to play, gave them room to stretch, to laugh, to linger, it's nothing short of masterful. I especially loved the suspenseful build-up to the exam twist, holding us gently in your grip, only to reveal that you dreamed the English questions. Who does that? Only a writer kissed by the muses.
Your narrative dexterity is stunning, this is the kind of writing that makes readers pause, smile, and reread.
Thank you for sharing your gift.
hii tobe, i’m the substack girl from Redeemer’s University Tedx program, you haven’t checked out my writings yet😞
Your writing heals my attention span, Thank you for the gift of you.
Same! I actually read everything without skipping
U write so well tobe🥺
Truly to love is not to own😌
I learnt that
A proud tobaby
I love this side of you Tobe