The Emotional Domestication of a Natural Fusion Reactor

I’ve spent a lot of my minutes so far on the planet trying to be someone
just to please someone
outside of myself.
I don’t even think that I existed until recently.
I want to use my seconds now enjoying the full unbridled company of the truest, highest version of me.
And it is so hard to take care of myself like I took care of the people I’ve stopped loving.
Some version of me was there for them, was thoughtful towards them, did things for them and reminded them regularly of my love and availability and willingness and forgiveness, and generosity.
They felt stronger, couldn’t stay longer and went further because of the hours of hug energy from my open arms.
And yet I’ve spent most of my days and weeks on the planet trying to convince someone
that I was someone
worthy of loving right back.
But they all left. I provided the fuel that they could use and they didn’t waste a moment moving miles away from the original source of the juice.
I want to like me like I liked them.
I want to like me whether anyone else does or doesn’t and mean it.
I don’t think I’ve even recognized how much I’ve neglected myself until recently.
The old me survived shit that the new me shouldn’t have to relive over and over again, second after second, minute by minute, every time I open my eyes.
How many waking years have I spent crying?
I have to keep asking myself around the clock do I actually hate me
or is that thought one bequeathed to me
just a voice looping
that I heard from outside me once originally
and sat here spending most of my months on the planet internalizing?
I didn’t know a damn thing about neuroplasticity until recently.
I don’t know who I was or who I could have been
for all these hours and weeks…
This shit might take a little while
fortunately my arms are long enough to wrap around
me, me, me and just me
and for as long as I can still hear the second hand of existence ticking
I have time left on the planet to do what I’ve been hoping to
be someone that I love and respect
and there’s nothing more important at this moment
than improving enough so that I can feel that.
I want to cry from happiness one time.
I didn’t know tears could be used for that until recently.
I still have no idea where I’m supposed to go or who I am supposed to be
other than someone who doesn’t waste any more minutes wishing
that I was worthy
instead of actually being.

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