Letters on Love

Where do love and self begin and end?

Love begins exactly how this page did. With a question, a lack of knowledge, and a desire to understand. It starts with a person fixated on a subject. Like a photographer with eyes half-dazed behind a camera capturing a godly, sensual woman strutting down the street. All flowing hair, glowing brown skin, deep brown catty eyes, all natural power.

Love is an act of worship with extra caveats. You love yourself, do you not?

Self begins exactly like that paragraph ended … with a question, an inevitably shifting question and outcome. Changing based on how sexy the world around you believes you to be. Or how pretty you feel. How much others love you and how well. You tell yourself you’re smart. Tell yourself you’re lovable. Tell yourself it’s no religion to you.

When did you stop loving yourself? Why do you chase someone else’s adoration when you can’t stand the sight of your own body?

I can answer that! It’s because someone you loved made external validation and desire sound important… sound good. Until they didn’t give you that. You watched them argue. Let them tell you what to want. What to like. How to like it. Let them tell you how to feel and why. You learned exactly what to say to keep them happy. Gave yourself up before you could fully meet yourself. Now you navigate with clouded eyes.

Because you can’t stop the fuckin’ tears from fillin’ those pretty eyes. Eyes made of sugar and dirt… can’t stop the sharp looks ooof disgust and mistrust because everyone always feels so shallow. Can’t tell if they want you around or if they want a warm body to occupy the space — to fuck or something else.

Though you trust… you do so at arms’ length. Why? Because you don’t trust yourself! And in not trusting yourself— you cannot fully love yourself.

Experiencing the negatives of love, loving and being loved… oh, how it shows us how it’s all connected!