Long Story Short: Love Shouldn’t Be A Threat

Rain lashed against the windowpane, mirroring the storm brewing inside me. Tears streamed down my face, blurring the already distorted image of my reflection. “Why is it so hard for someone to just love me?” I choked out, the question echoing in the empty room.

It wasn’t always this way. My childhood was a constant ache, a void left by a father who was never consistently present. My mom, bless her heart, tried everything, but that emptiness gnawed at me. I yearned for a love that never came, a yearning that festered into a pattern of terrible relationships. Men who saw me as an object, not a person. Cheating, lying, a parade of disrespect that chipped away at my already fragile sense of worth.

Then came David. We connected, and for a while, it felt different. I, naive and hopeful, shared the deepest crevice of my heart – my fear of being alone, unwanted. But David, like the others, failed me. Slowly, subtly, he withdrew. Communicating less and fussing more.

Was this my fate? To be perpetually alone, tossed aside like a forgotten toy? The answer, a therapist once told me, resided within myself. Years of emotional neglect had warped my perception of love, making me vulnerable to those who mirrored my father’s absence.

I realized, love wasn’t something to be found, but to be built. Built on a foundation of self-respect, nurtured by kindness and compassion – for myself, first and foremost.

Taking a deep breath, I wiped away my tears. The rain continued its relentless assault, but a tiny spark flickered within me – the embers of hope. I wouldn’t wait for someone to love me. I would go back to loving myself.