Somebody you still want

I can’t quite describe the feeling of being enough. Or not enough, I guess. Wishing you were enough and wondering how that happens. Somebody who feels worthy enough for a person’s heart, their love, or simply their time.

A little kid, rabbit painting in hand, looks at their daddy after coming home from school “do you like it, dad?” Ten years later she's asking the same question with a painting that has molded and transformed into glitter, alternative, a subtle piece.

Please like me. I think every normal human goes through phases of wanting to be liked, wanting to be seen. Maybe not phases as much as a constant nagging, pinching sometimes. I discovered a while ago that I would rather be known than liked. As uncomfortable as that could become, I can’t imagine being liked by so many with the alternative being you are completely unseen.

Somehow the same people you’ve been with still see you as someone they still want.