important

You say you aren’t important

as if you have to mean something.

As if simply your existence isn’t enough

to satisfy your search for a purpose.

 

Because, let me tell you,

your very existence makes me happier

than you can even begin to imagine,

and I’m sure many others

feel the same.

 

I wonder, who taught you to believe that

you weren’t important?

Who convinced you that you

weren’t enough for this world?

 

I know it’s silly and selfish

to claim that you should stick around

merely for others’ happiness, because

your self-worth should be based

on other things,

 

But I can’t seem to find any other way to

tell you how you improve my life

just by being in it,

or how you fill me with a certain joy

and excitement I can’t explain,

and how I really don’t want that

to go away.

 

I don’t want you

to go away.

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