They said to be loved is to be seen. It is the same as granting someone the chance to know you and embrace everything you are – your flaws, your brilliance, the stories that shaped you. Something about this is both endearing and terrifying. What if they look too closely? What if, instead of love, they only find reasons to turn away? Yet, that’s the cost of true love – for someone to see you as you are and still choose to stay.
And here I am, wondering if I have ever been truly seen at all.
Something about luck tugs on my heartstrings each time I fall short of the love I crave. Sometimes, just sometimes, I sit with the ache in my chest and wonder – what did I do wrong? Is it something I said or didn’t say, something I did or didn’t do? They say everything happens for a reason, but I find myself questioning the logic of that phrase. When will I be able to ignore the fact that I long for intangible things I may never hold?
Am I paying for the sins of the person I used to be? Or worse – am I unlovable for who I am today?
It feels like searching for four leaf clovers in an endless field of grass, only to watch someone else stumble upon one within three steps. It’s as if love is handed to others with ease while mine continues to dodge me, teasing me with the idea that maybe, just maybe, I’m not meant to find it at all.
I’ve watched it happen for others. I’ve seen the bouquet exchanges, the whispered sweetness of “I thought of you when I saw these.” But for me? There’s only ever been uncertainty.
Maybe I’ve never been seen in the way that truly counts – not deeply, not fully enough for someone to think, Yes, this is worth risking everything for.
