When I love someone I pour my whole self into them, their needs, their wants, their life. I accommodate my house to their personal belongings, I fill my cupboards with food they like, I refill their maintenance supplies without being asked. I dote. I do their laundry, clean up after them, give them rides. I admire. I like skin to skin.
What about me? What about my needs or wants? Why don't I matter? And when I ask, I'm selfish, and when I cry, I'm a miserable person, and when I'm not included in their life, it's because of my behavior. What behavior? I have never had a problem admitting fault but I didn't do anything wrong.
I envision myself being happy and taken care of. Truly loved and adored even. I fantasize about it. Sometimes I feel it right at the moment I'm thinking about it. But no ones doing it. It's just something I do to keep me alive.
I just want the person who notices the little things and appreciates them. I want to be needed, not used. I want to be sheltered, not hidden. And I want someone who sees all the hooks and is thankful I thought of them.
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