Scribbles

All my life, I
searched for something soft —
maybe a settled place,
a person,
a pause in the chaos
where I could just me.

But ohh that love…!! it never
came dressed as love.
Used, abused by the hands that were meant to be reached for protection!
Compared by the ones who were supposed to be home.
Left wondering if maybe I was the problem.
I mean… was I, actually?

So I ran — over and
over again.
Searching. Wondering.
Looking for what looked like care.

I ran away from pain
as far as I could.
But fate gifted me lonelier arms,
darker places.
And yes — sugar-coated perfectly.

But it was never love.
Just pretending.
Taking.
I don’t know…

Only being looked at —
but never really seen.

Why did it always turn
into something else?
Why was I always wanted but never valued?
Was I not soft enough?
Not strong enough?
Too much?
Not enough?

Often, I ask myself:
Was it my fault?

But deep down…
maybe it’s just the old child in me
wanting to be held — not hurt.
A soul that just wants to feel safe — not sized up.

I didn’t deserve what
happened to me,
neither did you.

What I wanted was
simple:
To be loved, not lusted.
To be safe, not shaped.
To be held, not handled.

And maybe — just maybe
— one day,
love will find me.
Not because I begged for it,
but because I finally started believing
I was worthy of it.