I am annoyed that people fall in love with me not for who I am but for who they think I am.
From the way I don't style my hair. From the way I choose my clothes. From the ways my eyes hold shape.
Sure, those are parts of who I am but I just become deeply aware that I am deceiving myself about who they love. I can never really know but I do not need to ask to know. Since love to a verb not a noun. I can see it in action.
I can recognize that people may not as sensitive may not be as sensitive to gratitude—to say "I cherish you" for every moment I am—when they see me. But I still am.
It is a both a fear and relief to know that people can see me these ways. They can know me in some ways rather than others. Though sometimes fear tips the balance. I am afraid that people only sense who I am in what I say rather than what I do not. I fear how my presence can be washed away in a rain of ideas.
Maybe this is the challenge for me. Because more often than not I am not asking for understanding, consoling or tissues. I am asking for presence and the answer to that is deeply loud when I know someone is not there. I am uncertain if I can ask of presence from people that I know struggle to be present for themselves. Because I hurt knowing how even if they can be present to me, they still may not be to themselves.