Was loving me so hard for you?
I was only a kid.
I was the product, not the creator.
I feel like I am both transparent and like a reflection to you.
I am looked through, looked over. Not a real person to you.
Not a person with feelings, beliefs and thoughts worth listening to.
You may listen now, but after the conflict passes we return to placating each other.
Fake smiles.
We know what lies beneath. Or do you?
I am your own mirror. A reflection of yourself when you look at me.
A reflection of your grief.
Perhaps you only see what you lost when you see me.
No matter. None of those versions are the real me.
It’s always “I don’t know you” and never “I want to know you”.
Some nights I ask myself why. Why you can’t love me the way that little girl always wanted you to.
She still wants you to.
Then I think perhaps you can’t. So consumed by the past that loving the present becomes impossible.
It’s not like you can’t. I’ve seen you try with others. Others that haven’t hurt you. Those that aren’t a permanent reminder of what you lost.
You love to remind me.
Like I need to remind myself of why I will never be enough for you.
Why all my effort is pointless.
So why do I keep trying. An endless, pointless loop I cannot escape.
Jump into the past, put the puzzle back together.
Except that version is a fantasy. Could never sustain reality. Yet you yearn for it all the same.
Perhaps the same way you yearn for a different reality of me.
If I was someone else would I make you happy? Would you see me then?
Why is loving me so hard for you?