I should feel ashamed of myself for wanting to be loved. Yet I continue to beat myself over and over again for wanting to be loved without knowing how to properly love myself. It scares me. The funniest part is the kind of love I need I have never beheld or rather I have never recognized and as I look around a little further I can only pity myself. I pity myself because this love can not be given by another but me. It’s within me.
I yearn for a soul connection, one that I am trying to weave with myself. Loving myself is hard. It’s scary because it means I might have to accept that nobody could ever love me as much as I could ever love me. And how I love me is sometimes so lacking and full of self doubt and fear. How I love me is way less than I put forth. I would not be able love me if I wasn’t me. I am afraid to be the only one that loves me. And the last one that truly loves me. That realization is heartbreaking.
I am lying down in bed with tears clouding my eyes. I know I am going through a process that I have avoided for way too long. And these tears are overwhelmingly deep from the well of my soul. Nobody can draw from this well but me. I strongly doubt that even I could draw from it. You see I don’t know what to do with life. It’s as if I am here yet not here. And nobody could take me out of it.
What do I do those days that even learning to love myself are clouded with fear and judgement? It hurts just because. I wouldn’t be able to explain why it hurts and nobody would be able to heal it. My soul is empty. It’s missing a part of itself. My soul is missing itself. I carry it in my vessel but it has a life of its own. It controls me.
I am afraid that one day my body won’t survive it. I am afraid that it might carry me far away longer than I could ever wait for it to come back. How do I speak to my soul when nothing can appease it’s groans?
Self-love. Relearning how to love myself is difficult. It puts me into a depressive state. And it corners me. The new ways are hard. Nothing really seems interesting. Or promising. And I try to escape it by wanting external love knowing too well it’s only escapist and temporary. I am tired of understanding my soul and it’s awakening. We are two people living in one body. And we don’t know what to do with one another.
But I will hang on and see what it will reveal. I must waddle through. And survive.