It’s sometimes hard for me to wrap my head around the idea that someone might see me as worth it. That I alone and in myself might be worth an effort, a risk. That I am more than a body holding a space for someone else, someone better. That the swirls of emotions and desires are things that I cause, rather than things I am a convenient outlet for. This…lack of belief in myself can cause problems, can pair with my doom and gloom to assume the worst while still holding out faint hope, just with the assurance it will be crushed.
I don’t know what to do in the face of it not being crushed, other than spread my arms wide and spin, ever so slowly; to sink to my knees in wonder; to awe that how I feel is a feeling returned.