Wonders

Conditionally

Before you read this poem, here's a reminder that you deserve to be loved at your worst and at your best <3

I think I can only really love myself conditionally. I see the beauty carved into the faces of everybody I walk past. I hear the laughs of my friends, see the bump in their noses and the curve of their lips. I forgive and I move on. Not once do I love them any less. Then why is it that I can not forgive myself the way I forgive others?

Why is it I only see the imperfections in the mirror? Why is it I run my hands along my body, watch myself from every angle in the mirror, try to capture myself at my worst just to prove that I am not loveable, I am not pretty enough to ever be desired. I can't help but believe I am only worthy of love when I am at my best. The specific angle in the camera where my body and face look like something I would be okay with, the days I can smile and be polite and please.

The spaces between the bad days and the good ones grow larger and larger until the good is a blur on the horizon. Unreachable on most days. It is not that I don't want to love myself. To reach inside and pull out a semblance of love. I'm simply scared there will be nothing left for me if I reach in. That it'll be a void, long emptied. Buried within crude remarks thrown at the mirror and disgusted glances. Perhaps all the love has been used up on everybody but me.

But maybe, maybe, if I carve my body and keep on carving, I'll find something I can love. Something that won't disappoint me. If I touch my face, smooth out the edges and the bumps, there will be something left I can cherish. If I please and I please and I please, I won't question if anybody cares. If I am enough to be loved. I can fit into their mold. Maybe it won't be me. But rather some twisted, mangled version of me.

Nonetheless, it will be worth it.