Conditional Love

Today, I wore my least favorite pair of jeans. Pants that were once upon a time mom jeans and now fit tight in all the “wrong” places. Today I apologized to them. Apologized for cursing them everytime I struggled to pull them over my hips. Apologized for hating them when they did their job. They showed me unconditional love, accepted my apology and embraced my mother earth natural hips in a way that I one day hope to love. 

I took a burden off my shoulders. Realized that I treat this body as a landfill for all my hate to prevent littering on other people’s lawns. For if I don’t hate myself, where will it go? Who will it hurt? Today, I took a break. I let my fear pollute the air and felt at ease to see no one being suffocated by my selfishness. 

I looked at the everlasting sky, watched a gentle river shimmer and wondered if this is how they exist. The way they ripple knowing that they have a purpose, content with the knowledge that they are children of the universe. When they become agents of mother nature's anger, they do not shrink at the curses. They swell. They don’t need poems written or love songs sung or anyone to fall in love with them to be beautiful. 

Everyday I futilely assure myself that someone will fall in love with me. Last night I dreamt someone did. This consolation led me to wear conditional love. Brought me closer to a fantasy that I will never feel under my palms, whose hair I will never feel between my fingers. I long for someone to fall in love with me at first sight, so enraptured that the thought of me follows them home. 

The universe has gifted me this illusion, aware my young heart cannot possibly hold the truth. That validation is only a substitute for the cosmic glow I already hold. Undiscovered.