No one has ever said that they love me.
At least not anyone who treats me how I want to be treated (I’m looking at you, mommy dearest <__<).
To see such words in writing, well, I collapsed into tears. Not for long though, since I hate the sound of my own crying (I can’t even suffer properly apparently), but long enough to realize that the words had a profound effect on me. Even with all my doubts and abused inner self in tow, I realized that those words meant a lot to me.
I look at myself and wonder why anyone on this earth would care about me (and sometimes, I wonder why more people haven’t cared)–which is a result of the abuse I’ve experienced. I don’t see it as confidence/self-esteem issues so much as it is a genuine curiosity and confusion. I feel like my friend who just used the L-word is just a really nice person with a high tolerance for people’s flaws and and issues or she doesn’t understand what she’s getting herself into.
Though I view myself as unique, I also view myself as a hodgepodge of majestic and volatile ingredients that should never have been put together in one person because a person consisting of these things can never coincide harmoniously with others. I don’t go with the flow when the flow is wrong, which seems to be a prerequisite for social life, and one of my biggest obstacles in dealing with people. So I don’t understand why anyone would care about something that so many others have abandoned, ignored, and pushed aside. Unique is not always good. “Something”, in this case, being me.
I’ve looked at myself and started trying not to be so hard on the person that my friend loves even though I don’t understand why she loves her. I guess even I had to hear those words once.