There are parts about myself that I adore, like how I can look at broken people and my eyes can only capture glimpses of beauty. I find their flaws attractive and I find myself falling in love with the parts that they hate. I love the way acceptance of their flaws works like magic, because when you truly love their blemishes they start looking at themselves differently. I love how much love hides in the corners of my smile every time I think about how much I would love someone one day. My love will sink into his veins and it will become the blood that flows through his body.

Have you thought about that kind of love that moves every part inside of you? It sways those parts to a 90’s beat that makes you believe that someone out there would do things for you that your mind can’t even fathom. The kind of love that makes your soul feel safe and whose heartbeat sounds like home.

I haven’t given much thought to the physical appearance of the person I dream about falling for, because your eyes can never feel what your heart does. But if I were to think about that person and I mean really think. I would picture him with hands that are big enough to handle our future and soothe both of our pasts. I picture his heart to be strong enough to love me during the times that I doubted my worth. His arms would be my sanctuary and in them love would bloom every day of the year. 

But there are parts about myself that I hate, like when I question my worth as a woman and the things that make me feel undeserving of being with someone mystifying. I hate how I overthink and how my mind goes on these crazy expeditions and it always ends up in an era that doesn’t exist. I hate how my life was only ever filled with temporary people and how I feel the need to cover the parts of myself that make up who I am. I hide them so well, because I know how mind blowing moments only last long enough for you to take your next breath. I hate how I try to prove myself to people by unwrapping parts of myself that they don’t deserve to see, but most of all, I hate the fact that sometimes I forget to love myself.