I am worthy of love. I am worthy of belonging.
I am worthy of someone shouting from the rooftops and even stupid fucking social media that he is my partner.
I am worthy of respect.
I am worthy of someone not running from me in fear.
I am worthy of commitment and fidelity.
I am worthy of being held when I am crying in the dark, even if it’s because I spilled all the Q-tips on the floor, or I am having period cramps, or my uncle is dying.
I am worthy of someone loving me for ME – for exactly who I am, this very exact moment. Even if I’m not 115 lbs or have conquered an extreme sport; even if I have grey chin hairs and a fleshy tummy.
I am worthy of love because I am already loved: wholly, completely.
I am worthy of being in relationship because I am a really good partner. I am a good friend.
I am a good girlfriend. I have the desire and potential to be a good wife.
And I will hold out for someone who wants the same things I do.
Who wants me for me.
And that is that.