I have thought for the longest time that I am not worthy of love. That I fix broken people and help them heal. I sometimes feel used. I mostly feel abused. I wonder if it will always be this way. I wonder if I will end up alone.

I do not want to change who I am to make others comfortable. I have been doing that my whole life. Why can’t someone look at me and see that I am worthy of adjusting to? Why can’t I be the one who gets the longing stares, who gets the grand gestures, who is wanted without wanting something in return? There is always a tradeoff in love whether people want to talk about it or not. Love is sacrifice and in this new world, no one wants to lose.

It feels like I have been searching my whole life to find someone who treats me as well as I treat myself. Yet when I find someone who even gives me the bare minimum it feels like a trap, a joke, a prank. It isn’t real. They can’t possibly want me for me. They can’t possibly want to do these things just because. Because no one ever has without it turning into quid pro quo. Give and take. I wait for the other shoe to drop and I hold my breath. Choking. Gasping. Self sabotaging. Watching my friends find happiness, but not me. I don’t think it will ever be me. Someone has to be the butt of the joke.

The fun, single friend. The one with the stories, the trauma, the character development. I barely know who I am since I lost myself in so many different relationships. All my friends could be certified therapists by now. Listening to the regaling tales. The drama and heartbreak. Everyone wants tea in their lives. Someone has to be the unhinged one. The one who doesn’t have it all together, but looks like it from the outside. I am screaming inside. I haven’t felt peace since 2005 when the first boy I met broke my heart and it has been downhill since. One step up, five steps back…

There have been few who have gotten to see some vulnerable parts of me. The deep hidden depths. The darkest and most sensitive aches and fears. Not many have stuck around to find out what is there underneath. To find the scared little girl who is just hoping someone will love her. Who will hold her and nurture her in the way she never was. Who will help her understand that it is ok to come out, it is finally safe. But no one has dared to venture that far. The one who almost got close enough snapped back like a rubber band from a child’s fingers in the back of the classroom. Weak. I try not to blame him too much. She is deeper than ever. Buried under rage and regret and hurt. Who knows if she will ever see the light of day again.

I may never be the same as I was. I was happier then. Focused, with purpose. Ready to do what I needed to do. I had ideas, I wanted to go the distance. Now here I am, burnt out and just trying to make it a little longer. Praying that one day it will all be worth it. I have to do it all for her. For me. For us. This is the final push towards everything I know is waiting at the end. I am doing everything I dreamed about only a few years ago. I am smart, successful, tenacious. I take no shit and everyone knows it. Only the strong survive.

That brings us here. I will not dim for anyone. I am who I am. I fought to become her. I will flourish under my own praise and worth if I have to. I have who I need and I will no longer drain myself into other people for the sake of hoping they’ll change for me. I do not deserve weak people in my life. I have been strong for myself for all these years and someone can do that for me as well. No more one sided relationships. I am the table. I am the tequila.

I thought I had written sooner than now, but I know that I have been working towards my dreams and one day I will be able to do this to my hearts content. A love letter to myself. To enjoy when I am old and perhaps with someone else. Until then, it is for your enjoyment, to uplift, to distract, to inspire. Thank you for being with me. xxx