What is love?

What is love? True love. Love isn’t just a word, it’s an action. You can’t just say the right words to someone, but not try to help them. The relationship will die. But then is the feelings even real? Especially if it’s built up on a house of lies, then is it real? I don’t know what true love is? I can’t help but feeling like I have to do something to receive love.That shouldn’t be necessary. You shouldn’t have to change to be loved. I don’t know what unconditional love feels like. I find it hard to believe people when they tell me they love me. I think that is just a four letter word… There’s no meaning behind it until there’s an action. I long to feel like I belong, but when someone tells me they like me I don’t believe it. When people tell me they love me I think of everything I’ve done wrong. The only thing I’ll die for is a better me. Who doesn’t crave wounds, to never have picked up a cursed blade, to hit send,  or to grab an item at a store. To be the person people can be proud of. That can go past 5 months without relapse. That can wear short sleeves. That isn’t me. It’s a mystery that people care. I don’t understand it. Sure some moments I may think, “Hey I look good today.” But then I’ll notice every single thing I’ve messed up. And self hate will creep up behind me and tap me on the shoulder and I’ll welcome it. It’s where I’m comfortable. It kills me inside but I welcome it. I hate this.

This poem is about: 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741