I have always questioned my worth when it comes to love. Some people see the glamorous things I have done, or they admire the qualities I hold "Oh, you're so smart," "You're so humble," "You're very respectful." And for the longest time, I thought that these qualities would at least get me one foot in the door of the dating scene. But reality has a way of humbling you, of showing you the parts of yourself that you don't want to see.
But I had to acknowledge something difficult growing up, I was not "one of those girls" who easily fit into society's standard of beauty. I had to glow up three times before people even realized that I was beautiful. And it was hard. Hard to watch my peers experience love in its different shapes and forms while I remained on the sidelines. Always the "serious type," always the one they couldn't see themselves dating.
At first, I thought maybe I was too much, too overbearing. But as I grew, I realized I was different. And maybe that difference was protecting me from heartbreaks, from scars, from settling. Still, I had to make peace with the situation.
I have always been intentional with my life. I had this picture-perfect idea of what love should be, shaped by the love I saw between my grandparents. One woman, one man. A love that endured, that weathered storms, that lasted until death parted them. I held onto that vision so tightly, believing that one day, I too would be cherished like that. And then reality hit.
"What about me?"
Nothing hurts more than realizing that you are nothing to someone who once made you feel special. I have had my fair share of disappointments with boys—from the one who told me, "I can't do this because I'm ashamed," to the ones who betrayed me with so-called friends. But still, I carried on, my head held high, my heart full of hope, my vision of love unwavering.
Time passed, and the flower wilted. From clapping hands for others and being selfless for those closest to me, I watched everyone embark on their love journeys while I struggled to even reach the three-month mark in a relationship. "You deserve better," they would say. Easy for them to say when they had been in relationships for years while I barely made it past three months.
And so, I questioned "What is wrong with me?"
I stretch out my hands, trying to catch raindrops like a child reaching out to God for hope. Like faith, love is something you cannot see, but you are told to believe in. But believe in what exactly?
Like Gcina Mhlophe's story that clung to my heart forever "when I had knock-knees, bushy brows, and hair too coarse to comb?" Never have I ever felt spoken to and connected with while classmates laughed at that statement.
Well, I guess I am a joke., isn't it?
But as time passed, I realized the painful truth - people say you have to kiss many frogs to find your prince, but no one tells you how much of yourself you lose in the process. You keep giving and giving, and all they do is take, without ever feeling bad about it. And then, suddenly, you have nothing left to give.
Empty.
When that happens, you ask yourself, "What happened to the little girl with the spark, the charisma, the confidence?" Was she ever even there to begin with?
And so, I found myself believing that happiness lies in love. That maybe, just maybe, being loved by someone would complete me. Like a wilted rose, I was hoping that someone would water me.
"Love yourself first."
"Self-love."
These words have been drilled into me, forced upon me like a mantra for the unworthy. I have made peace with the situation. Perhaps the journey of sincere and pure love was not meant for all of us.
But oh, inner child what has the world turned you into…
There is so much beauty in this life that you fail to see. The perfection in imperfection. It takes a journey to truly realize the beauty within. You are not like everyone else, and that is okay. I want you to feel and know that you are one of a kind. And no one deserves to have you unless they are willing to cherish you. What about your beautiful smile? Your soft skin? Your tender voice? The loudness of your presence? Your soft and perky breast? Those things deserve love too.
I am not a wilted rose.
I am reborn.
Like a stream of water that carries life, flowing endlessly, growing into a river, into a vast body of water. That is what life is about. Growth. And my past does not define me.
Yes, I love myself.
Yes, I deserve love.
And no, my vision of love should not be tainted in the name of desperation.
See the truth for what it is.
Because by the time you realize you have given everything, you understand that "love yourself" isn't just a phrase. It is survival.
People will keep you around for the advantages you bring in the name of love. And I am angry. I am sad. I am infuriated at myself.
I am tired of being lied to, compromised for, taken for granted. And yet, when I ask myself, "Has anyone ever compromised for me?" the answer is always the same.
No.
Oh, really?
You mean the bare minimum? Is that it?
When did I go from a girl who loved good morning texts to a girl who convinces herself, "Oh, it's fine. He's probably just busy."
I was forced to compromise to fit the shoe.
Oh, you don't know how to love? That's interesting. I bet you'd buy the teddy bear for the one you love, won't you?
Am I lying?
Didn't think so.
So yes, I will say it again.
"Love yourself." Oh wait, did I?
Breathe.
Now feel it. Feel the stupidity. Feel the triggers. Feel the clown you became in the name of love.
So now tell me....
God asks, "Why did you lose yourself? What happened to the vision of love I gave you? The one I planned out for you?" You will not have an answer.
I am angry. I am tired of this endless cycle—men saying the same things, just in different shapes and sizes. And I ask, "What is wrong with me?"
Why is the bare minimum taking precedence? Why am I always second best? Why do their empty words sound better than nothing at all?
Why are they the only ones deemed special, as if they are the only ones afraid of heartbreak? And most importantly - why are they selfish at my expense?
They think only of themselves while I sit here, questioning my worth. Being fed breadcrumbs in the name of, "I will do this for you" or "I wanted to do that for you."
Stop with the "I wills." Do. Act. "Actions speak louder than words."
Because I am tired of being second best. The afterthought.
Go eat shit.
Stop making me question my worth. Stop making me accept breadcrumbs in the name of love.
I deserve roses. I deserve balloons. I deserve to be given to without asking. I deserve to be thought of.
And I refuse to lower my standards just because there "aren't many fish in the sea."
I love myself too much to tolerate nonsense.
Your words do nothing for me. They are just words. Keep them to yourself I don't want to hear them.
Useless.