Why I Stopped Loving Myself

I loved myself.

When I was with you, my world spun in the right orbit, with the right order and a mesmerizing amount of stars, and I thought that I could finally receive the much-needed self-confidence and self-respect from myself. When I was with you, I felt like I could take down the world one step at a time; slowly, I saw myself as the queen and you were the king that I got behind on. That was our dynamic and it made me feel like I finally knew what I was created for.

You were my purpose and I learned to love myself because finally, I wasn’t worthless.

I actually loved myself.

When I kissed you, the earth stopped, the ground shook, and I could feel fate looking at me from above with a smile. When I kissed you, it felt right; there was nothing wrong with me anymore and that what was between us would always remain. When I kissed you, nothing felt wrong; I finally felt right.

You were the validation I needed and I learned to love myself because finally, I wasn’t a mistake.

I actually loved myself.

Now I don’t.

I don’t because the thin piece of thread I was clinging to just to love myself vanished. Because you vanished. You left me and there was nothing left of me when you did. Except tears. And hatred. And anger. And worthlessness.

I don’t because the feeling isn’t there anymore. I don’t feel my purpose anymore. I don’t know my purpose anymore and whether or not I had been created because I needed to do something in our world or because I was the mistake in the world full of masterpieces. I was the wrong thing stuck in the wrong world.

I don’t love myself anymore because you don’t love me back. And if all it took was three years for you to realize what everyone knew all along, if all it took was hardships and complications for you to stop loving me, then how could I love myself?

How could I love the one thing in the world nobody else loved back?