Someone new sees beauty in me and shows sincere care and gentleness. He is in love with my humor and wit and not only accepts me despite all my quirks and imperfections, but embraces them and tucks them into the corners of his smile. He has a laughter that makes me feel proud and beautiful.
For once, I feel free and genuinely happy and somewhat at peace despite all the chaos that is my life. I have actual hands and arms, an admiring gaze and a gorgeously-carved mind that I can snugly and comfortably fit into.
For once, I actually feel recognized and appreciated.
For once, I actually feel loved and at home.
Yet I feel guilt for being “selfish.”
But oh, you had so many chances, man. I gave you my youth and loved you deeply and truly, and selflessly sacrificed and waited, and waited, and waited.
Forgive me, but I got tired of waiting for someone who only keeps me at arms’ length and reaches out when it’s “convenient.” I’m exhausted from crying and pouring tears of frustration from feelings of simply not being enough.
I’m sorry, but I think it’s time that I give myself the decency to be admired, respected and adored as a woman—as somebody.
I’m sorry if it’s selfish, but I’m a human being with feelings, not an object that you can keep on the shelf to just sit and collect dust.