Please love me.

Please love me.

Yes, I looked into my mother's eyes and wished I could ask her why she didn't love me, why she wouldn't accept me. I would do anything she asked, just love me.

As a child, I was a beautiful girl, but I didn't receive enough attention. I went to school with my hair unstyled and wore the same clothes all week. In winter, my hands would crack from the cold.

Once, I met a new friend, and after we got to know each other, she brought me some moisturizing cream and put it on my hands. My hands improved a lot after using it, and I'm grateful to her, even though we don't speak now.

As I grew up, I was one of those people who tried their best to please others. Once, I asked my mother to hug and kiss me, but she coldly pushed me away.

I wanted to confront her and ask her why she didn't love me. My mother was one of those people who couldn't express their feelings. There were many times when I thought she was incredibly affectionate, and other times when she proved otherwise. I love her, but I don't know if I've forgiven her or not. Even if I haven't, I'll try.

So, how has this affected my life? (I'd say these are the situations I remember that truly affected me. If you've been through something similar, I deeply sympathize, but that doesn't mean these seemingly simple situations didn't affect me.)

Okay, let's continue. I've been through times when I wasn't myself, someone I didn't recognize. Yes, I acted in ways that didn't reflect my personality or even my thoughts. I tried to please everyone around me in every way to ensure their love.

I even reached a point where I saw someone and liked him, and I knew the type of girl he preferred, so I became that girl just so he would love me.

I fear loss, but I didn't realize that I was losing myself day by day. I lose myself when I try to please them, and they are never satisfied. Why are they never satisfied? Because every time I do something, they demand something else. They don't love me, and they don't accept me.

I don't know if this is related or not, but today I saw a girl talking to a guy, which is unacceptable in our culture. She was also laughing loudly. There was another guy standing outside; they were in a shop, and he was listening intently. From his eyes, I could tell he liked her. Many thoughts came to mind. The first was that they might be in a relationship and she's trying to make him jealous. In that case, she's not a real woman because a woman knows her worth and doesn't let her energy be scattered from one man to another. The second thought was that he likes her but hasn't told her, and now he's regretting it. In any case, this girl is missing love because she's simply waiting for it from someone else. I'm not trying to impose my ideas or anything like that, but I'm just giving my opinion. Also, I'm not judging her because I don't know what she's been through. Now, back to me.

Is this who I am now? Yes, there's a part of me attached to this personality or identity because, in reality, it protects me. But at the same time, I'm trying to reprogram myself to be a new version of myself.

As they say, a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Thank you for your valuable time reading this. This was Ashraqat Al-Naji.