I spent so long waiting
for someone to hold the parts of me that hurt.
Then one day,
I turned toward myself.
I held the girl I had abandoned,
sat beside every wound,
and stopped asking her to heal in silence.
Maybe self-love is not about loving every part of who we are.
Maybe it begins with refusing to leave ourselves
when we are hurting.
I became the arms I had been waiting for.
basileus
