But Do You Love Me?

It's great to be you. You know, you. All of you.

All the things you don't apologize for and frankly all the things you do.

But do you love you? All of you? And can you expect or hope that someone else will love you?

All of you?

Is it fair?

I have been loved when I shouldn't have. Loved someone else when I shouldn't have. Hated myself and hated others in the name of love.

But when you ask yourself or ask someone else - do you love me? Inevitability the answer is... yes?

Frankly, love is either born out of obligation - family - because we've abused each other enough years to warrant loving someone so long they can't quit you or love is born out of will - self/another - because we've abused ourselves enough to warrant the respect it takes to not quit, to lose is to fail and that is not an option.

I've been me for 40 years. And facing my 41st year all I can say is it has come at a price.

A price seemingly everyone else around me for the most part has been willing to pay.

I have always thought I knew sacrifice, commitment, love, affection, partnership... but apparently I don't.  I'm reminded each time I get it wrong that I didn't know what the fuck I was doing from the get-go. I know so many people around me, friends and family that have "figured it out", but my silly ass is still blowing out in the breeze.

The cruel irony of my life is all I've ever wanted is to be loved. For my love to be enough for someone else.

To be the one. The one. Enough for some one. To change. To be changed. To fall in line. The same line.

They tell you you have to be enough for yourself but the truth is I've been enough for myself for a long time. I grew up poor and alone and I'm sick of it. It's been long enough, scraping and fighting for scraps of love and affection and acceptance. I'm tired of it. 

I've made myself into this fit, beautiful, accomplished woman but to what end? At what price?

I endeavor to love me.

But do you love me?