I never knew what it felt like to be admired by someone.
For most of my life, I was the one running after someone, accepting whatever breadcrumbs they were willing to give me in return. I thought this was just how love worked. I thought this was all one got.
So I moulded myself. Contoured myself. Tried to fit myself into whatever shape I thought the other person wanted me to be.
Maybe, I thought, if I became enough of what they wanted, they would finally see me.
Maybe they would appreciate me. Appreciate how much I loved them. And maybe, eventually, they would give some of that love back.
But the more I moulded myself, the more I lost myself.
There came a point when I barely recognized the person I had become.
And the strangest part was that, even after all that, they still didn't see me.
They didn't see me for who I was. They didn't appreciate me for the person I had become for them. I was never enough. There was always something more they wanted from me.
I, on the other hand, had always accepted them.
I overlooked their flaws. I made excuses for the things they did. I hyped up their goodness. I put them on a pedestal.
And what did I get in return?
Sadness. Disappointment. Loneliness.
And somewhere along the way, I started hating myself.
I lost my confidence. I questioned my worth. I started believing that maybe there really was something wrong with me.
Until one day, I decided: that's it.
I can't make myself any smaller.
I can't keep shrinking myself to fit into someone else's idea of who I should be.
So I gave myself some space to breathe.
I started accepting my body. My mind. My flaws. The things I liked about myself and the things I didn't.
And slowly, I started working on them. One by one.
Not because I wanted to become someone worthy of being loved.
But because I wanted to become someone I could live with. Someone I could be proud of.
And then something strange happened.
Someone else started seeing me.
Really seeing me.
They admired me. Wanted me. Told me I was beautiful. Told me I was smart. Intelligent. That they loved spending time with me. That they liked listening to what I had to say. They asked for my advice.
And instead of simply being able to receive it, all my old doubts came rushing back.
I didn't believe them.
They must want something from me.
They're lying.
Maybe they're seeing something that isn't really there.
Maybe they're seeing a version of me that I've somehow convinced them exists.
Because I still don't see her.
I don't look at myself and see a beautiful woman. I see everything I don't like about my body.
I don't look at myself and think I'm particularly smart. I see all the things I don't know. All the things I haven't learned. All the things I still have to figure out.
I used to have this almost insatiable hunger to read and learn and know things. I don't always feel that way anymore.
And sometimes I wonder if I've lost some part of myself along the way.
But then I stop.
Every day, I wake up and try.
Sometimes I'm the best version of myself.
Sometimes I fall right back into my bad habits.
Sometimes I disappoint myself.
I'm not perfect. And I don't want perfection to become another excuse for not growing.
I'm training my body.
I'm training my mind.
I'm trying to become better, not because I need to prove myself to someone else, but because I want to know what it feels like to become someone I am proud of.
Someone for myself that I never had.
That's what I really want.
I want to look at myself one day with love. With pride.
I want to be able to look in the mirror and say:
I love you.
I'm proud of you.
Look how far you've come.
You are not a loser.
You did not waste your life.
You are not too much.
You are not not enough.
You are simply you.
And I want to believe it.
Not because my parents tell me.
Not because a partner tells me.
Not because my friends tell me.
Not because someone chooses me, wants me, admires me or thinks I'm beautiful.
I want to get to a place where I don't need any of that to know my own worth.
Where I can look at myself and see a good person.
A person I admire.
A person whose journey I'm proud of.
Maybe acceptance is only the beginning.
I don't just want to accept myself.
I want to admire myself.
That is where I want to go.
I don't know if I'll ever completely get there.
But maybe that's the work.
Maybe every morning I wake up and choose myself again.
And maybe, one day, I will finally look in the mirror and truly see the person I've been trying so hard to become.
Me.