I let my slow steps lead me to you. I take a deep breath and here I am, looking at you and feeling a whirlwind of things I thought I’d never feel since you left. You don’t seem to have changed much, if I may say so, but I think internally you’ve become a different person.

Her eyes are still the same, her smile is still bland and embarrassed as if she’s scared to death to expose herself, and her hair is still disheveled with that special artist touch that everyone around her used to love. Less you. But it was beautiful, you who didn’t notice.

I’m motionless trying to observe every detail of her skin, the curve of her mouth, the pert nose at the tip. I didn’t think I’d be brave enough to face you again, I’ll be honest. After all, you left because I practically pushed you out. I thought I would never be able to have the attitude of wanting to find and connect with you again. But here I am.

What happened that I so suddenly decided to see you? I think I’ve grown. I let go of the hurts and all those stupid thoughts I had when I let you go. Because you know, the companies led me to believe it was best to exclude you. It was not. I became bitter, cold and my dimples stopped showing with the laughter, because they didn’t come either.

OK. I know! I will not be hypocritical. It was cool for a while, hanging out with a bunch of new people, falling in love with a drop-dead gorgeous guy, and changing my entire wardrobe. But the fun wore off, because he left me standing next to the phone the next day, and then, and then. His friends too.

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My clothes started to feel too tight overnight.

And then today, after many months of trying to justify myself to myself, I decided to look for you. My silly pride has left me mired in insecurity for so long that it makes me want to fight with myself. I was deceived. I believed in the idea that someone would one day appreciate my little bones more than you do.

I know, idiotic, no? Nobody will love me like you. You put me first, you know the clothes I want to wear and how comfortable they are. Your love is unconditional, always has been.

That said, I accept who I am. I accept that I don’t need to change anything about myself to please anyone. Screw what they want. I love myself. I love you. I love that shaggy hair and I don’t want it to look neat to a bunch of people who don’t appreciate the art it hides.

Finally I see your smile, my smile. I. After all this time, I can see that you were all I needed. I myself was all I needed.

I finish smiling and watching my dimples sink into my cheeks and feel proud of my own reflection. This time, I won’t let myself go for anything or anyone.

I leave my favorite mirror hanging on the bedroom wall and pull on my baggy clothes, feeling finally ready.
Nobody will love me like I should love myself.