It all started so well. Everything seemed perfect. My life was full of laughter, friends, and the kind of experiences that should have made me feel complete. I had friends—good friends, close friends even. But as time went on, I began to notice something unsettling, something that gnawed at the edges of my contentment. At first, it was subtle—a fleeting thought that maybe my friends didn’t quite understand me, that something essential was missing.
As the days turned into weeks, that feeling grew. It wasn’t just a lack of understanding; it was a lack of something deeper—love, connection, quality, maybe even quantity. I started to look at the people around me with a critical eye. Why didn’t they give me what I needed? Why didn’t they fill that growing void inside me?
The more I searched, the more I realized how empty everything felt. The love I craved seemed just out of reach, the quality of my relationships seemed to diminish, and the quantity of friends didn’t make up for the loneliness that took root in my heart. It was like living in a dream where everything is almost perfect, but not quite—always just a little off, a little lacking.
I started to feel a sense of panic, a rising anxiety that something was fundamentally wrong. I tried to make new friends, to find new relationships that could give me what I was missing. I surrounded myself with people—more and more people. And for a while, it helped. It distracted me from the emptiness inside, kept me busy, kept me from thinking too much. But deep down, I knew it was only a temporary fix.
No matter how many people I surrounded myself with, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. And then it hit me—like a cold, harsh truth I had been avoiding. The problem wasn’t them. The problem was me. I realized that what I was missing in others was exactly what I was missing in myself. I was searching for something in others that I hadn’t yet found within. And until I did, no one else could fill that void.
People, why don’t you love yourselves? You say you’re ready to love others, but that’s not true either. You’re just trying to fill your emptiness, using others as a distraction, or worse, as a way to validate your existence. You give away what you don’t even have for yourself, hoping that someone else will recognize your worth and give you the love you crave in return. But even if it works, it’s only temporary. You’ll still be left feeling hollow, still chasing after something that can’t be found outside of yourself.
One of the most vivid examples that made me understand this truth was a video I once saw. Here it is: "Hurt people hurt people".
This is what we do when we haven’t healed ourselves—when we haven’t learned to love ourselves. We hurt others, even when we don’t mean to, because we’re carrying wounds that we refuse to tend to.
Imagine someone is in love with you. They say they love you, that they want something with you. But they do nothing to show it—no care, no effort, no presence. How would that make you feel? Now ask yourself, why do you do the same thing to yourself? You say you want to change, that you want to be happy, but you do nothing to make it happen. And then you wonder why you’re still unhappy, why nothing seems to change.
The truth is, others see how you treat yourself. Maybe not immediately, but eventually, it becomes clear. And they will treat you the same way. If you neglect yourself, if you don’t love yourself, how can you expect others to do it for you? If you want others to treat you with love and respect, start by treating yourself that way.
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