The love i have for others have never die. Instead, it always bloom like if flowers have hands it grow longer and longer holding other flowers. However, my heart have perished to feel anyone’s love, and even though I wish for it to blossom again, it never does. That part of this flower have withered, perhaps turn into ashes, since that phrases and treatment I got back in junior high school.
I have never perceive any treatment I got as love ever since I heard my name being called by other names. The dull. The weird. The ugly. The ugly. The ugly. I am ugly outside and perhaps inside too. People don’t like to be around me. People don’t even sit beside me. They hesitated — even right away — to give me a seat anywhere. I am the freak who has always left behind. I am not a good enough person to feel loved. I don’t deserve love. I have never believe I deserve any love ever since. I have since then believe that love is something I will always fail to receive. No one will ever give me love as genuine as how I think I give to others.
I am held back from a lot of opportunities because I can’t feel confident living. I am stuck in this long dark tunnel with memories of people-calling-me-names put on a never ending replay. I hate the life I’m living. Although I have passed my wanting-to-pass-away era, this life I’m living still feels like a nightmare. I always feel like I need to live to please others yet I will never get to where other people expected me to be. I can’t even touch my own expectations. Even if I can, I will then see others then feel like I am not even good enough.
Isn’t it unfair for people to live a life they wanted meanwhile I can only dream? Isn’t it unfair how they can immediately forget what they said while their words won’t stop lingering in my head then permanently stuck on my every bit like a tattoo? Isn’t it cruel how I can even hardly crawl while they are on their jet to meet big opportunities and live the life they wanted?
I want a proper life too. I understand life is short thus I want to live it to the fullest but almost in every single time I feel achieved, I slap my own self to the ground all over again by listening to those words and recalling those memories.
I am not and never loved, while people who threw me away like a garbage live the life they wanted. I was stepped for them to bloom. And even if they don’t feel like they bloom, I still feel like I am the most miserable person on earth and I don’t ever deserve to be happy.
Lately, I can feel the blessing of people finally saying good things about me after all these years of thriving. I can feel the existence of friends. But as much as I appreciate their kindness, I have never feel loved. I have never had the capacity to fully grasp the idea of being touched by loving hands, held by loving heart.
So tell me again how it feels like to be loved.
