The Hardest Love: Self Love

I’ve never liked myself. It’s always been hard, and still is, to love who I am because doubt has a grip on me so strong that I can’t seem to break free. I’ve tried to start, but I’ve never finished. I’ve always gotten used to walking away from it, to the point that every part of me is overshadowed by doubt.

Everything I do feels wrong, like I can’t get anything right. I’ve never prioritized myself because I’m terrified that if I do, others will label me selfish, that they’ll see me as a bad person for simply thinking about my own needs. I settle for the bare minimum because that’s all I believe I deserve.

I don’t aim for the things I want, or even think of reaching for the dreams I hope for, because I’ve convinced myself that they’ll never be mine. I’ll never be happy or satisfied, and I don’t deserve the good things in life, only the struggle. The moment I even try to love myself, I’m haunted by the fear that someone will tear it down, that someone will steal a piece of that love until I’m left broken, with gaps I can never fill.

I’ve never appreciated myself, because why would I? Each day is just another day I wish I could change. I dream of days where I can be the happiest, truest version of myself, but instead, every day just feels like passing time—another date on a calendar that doesn’t mean much.

Being proud of who I am seems impossible because I know it won’t last. I’m scared that tomorrow will be worse, that I’ll regret the things I did today, and that I won’t feel this good ever again. I’ve lost hope in feeling proud because I know that once I do, something will come to remind me that I don’t deserve it. That I’m not worthy of my own kindness, that I shouldn’t love myself.

I feel worthless. Finding my worth is like searching for something that doesn’t exist. I struggle to believe I’m worthy of anything, that I’m anything but boring, unimportant. People forget me, and I always think that the reason they leave is because I’m not worth their time, their love, their friendship. It’s terrifying to wake up and wonder if everyone around me will decide I don’t matter. What if I’m just a piece of trash they can throw away when they’re done?

Loving myself is so hard. I’m scared that if I do, people will leave me, unlove me, make me feel like I’m not important. But strangely, I’m not scared of loving myself first. I fear that the weight of these feelings will one day become too much, and I’ll never have the chance to love myself at all.

One day, I hope that the only thing that matters is the love I have for myself.