If I am to be Loved

 

If I am to be loved,

how is that supposed to work?

 

I have often been told in order to

be loved, you must be yourself.

I have also been told that in order

to be loved, you must love yourself.

I have been told that in order to

be loved, you must sacrifice yourself.

 

Am I supposed to be myself?

The best version of myself?

The version most liked by others?

The version I like in the quiet?

The version liked amid the noise?

The version I like least?

 

If I am to be loved,

who am I supposed to be?

 

The fiercely independent one?

The mildly co-dependent one?

The sad one?

The happy one?

The loud one?

The one blistered by experience?

 

Won’t I be loved if I am just

who I say I am?

Without accommodations?

Without having to change everything?

Am I not worthy of love as I am?

 

If I am to be loved,

what do I have to give up?

Why do I have to give it up?

 

Aren’t we supposed to be loved,

by someone who accepts all our parts,

the independent, the co-dependent,

the sad, the happy, the loud, the blistered parts,

in a beautiful human package, wrapped

in a bow of contradictions?

 

If I am to be loved.