It doesn’t matter what anyone says or does, they can’t place their fingers deep enough inside of you to make you feel loved. How can they, when hating yourself tastes like home.
When it overwhelms anyone’s attempt to get close to you.
And so you settle, you find the most noble person you can and reciprocate enough love to keep them happy. At times, you surprise yourself and give more, but you reconcile that within yourself to meaning nothing, it’s just the right thing to do.
I don’t know where this resistance came from, this rejection of love and receiving it anyway.
I don’t know why it’s a sad bliss to want to be alone and unloved, to spare people of the effort, of heartbreak and hurt.
This logic infused with over sensitivity is the most absurd cocktail for living. Yearning and rejecting people at once.
UN-enough | Wesam El dahabi