What is it you see when you look at me?

What labels have you attached to my existence? Do you see a needy, desperate woman clinging to the longing for love?

Or do you see a woman whose heart remains unbroken by the beatings she never deserved? Do you see a woman still hopeful, even after a lifetime of reasons to give up hope?

Do you interpret my willingness to say “Yes” without a thought as a weakness? Does my desire to please you look like a sacrifice of myself? Do I look like a doormat to you?

Or do you see a woman who loves you and is happy to give you all that you ask for and need? Do you understand why I have no reason to say “No” if I get that it’s important to you and is easy for me?

When I tell you what it is I need, do you think I am too demanding? Do you think I’m undeserving?

Or do you see a woman courageous enough to ask for what she needs? Do you see a woman brave enough to list everything that she deserves?

When I give you another chance, do you see a weak woman willing to accept mistreatment? Do you see a pushover willing to accept whatever scraps you toss her way?

Or do you see a forgiving woman, willing to try again for someone she finds worthy of a second chance, or a third, or a hundred? Do you see the woman who believes you are capable of giving her all the love she needs?

When I tell you “I love you,” do you see me as stupid for thinking that I love you? Do you label me as ignorant for loving you before I know you completely? Am I foolish to you for loving so quickly and so deeply?

Or do you see a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid of letting you know? Do you see a woman who’s experienced enough of what she doesn’t want to know when to raise her hand for the things she does? Do you see the woman who is intelligent enough to recognize your worth and see how it aligns with what she’s been searching for?

When I finally give up on you, do you tell yourself that I’m the crazy one? Do you think that what I felt couldn’t have been love because I have no desire to turn back?

Or do you see a woman that gave you everything she had inside to give? Do you see the woman who wanted nothing more than to stay? Do you see the woman who was waiting for you to give back to her? Do you see the woman emptied and exhausted by all that you took?

“Love yourself,” they say. As if I don’t feel a profound love for the woman I am. As if I haven’t loved myself all along. As if my problem lies in a lack of self-love. As if my love for others somehow equates to an absence of love for myself.

“Love someone other than yourself,” I say to them. But I know it falls on deaf ears. The hope of ever knowing love died in them long ago. Back when their own broken heart turned them cold and bitter. When the pain of love lost made them question any future love received. When their bitterness and resentment damned them to a lonely life of inflicting the same cruel fate onto anyone unlucky enough to ever look their way and see someone worthy of love.

I do not think I’m wrong in the way that I love. I think the problem is in the way that you see me.