I haven't thought about it much.
Took me almost three years to have the courage to face what's what.
When we were together, I kept wondering whether or not if she would love me for who I really am. The goofy me. The anxious, avoidant me who I was battling with. Battling against. Battling for, even. I kept wondering, kept asking, kept needing reassurances about. And she did give me those things that I surely needed. The words, the touch, the reaffirming gaze.
But that's just about it, you know? It wasn't meant to be.
No matter how much I want her to, no matter how much she did, it was never enough. It would never be enough for me, for her for the both of us to have that. It was never on the same level, despite how I wanted it so badly to work. I've come to terms with never needing, never expecting love to come for the raw personality that I have nurtured, the good and the bad that came with it. The personality that comes with my existence, defined who I really am up until this day.
And someone else came and loved me anyway.
Do I deserve it now? Probably not.
Do I want it now? I don't really know.
But all I know is that I am grateful for it.
