Do you love me?
I would ask into the empty room, hearing my voice echo throughout the house.
When I'm alone and there's not a chance that anyone would actually hear me.
I repeat it constantly.
Especially when an embarrassing memory surfaces and I need reassurance.
Do you love me?
And at night, I whisper it to myself when my thoughts get to be to loud.
Do you love me?
In the soft, quiet hours of the morning when the birds chirps don't seem particularly loud.
Do you love me?
When I'm in the car alone, singing to the empty spaces beside me. I look over and imagine that someone's there.
And I ask,
Do you love me?
When I've just gotten back from the store.
Do you love me?
There's a a feeling in my chest every time I say it.
And sometimes saying it out loud isn't enough.
So I have to yell it, almost to the point of screaming.
Do you love me?
And saying it once is never enough.
So I repeat it.
Again and again and again until it sounds right.
Do you love me?
Do you love me?
Do you love me?
Until the feeling of panic, frustration, or anger finally surface.
Countless emotions run through my chest and it feels as if they all want to escape but don't know how.
It becomes unsure.
Do you love me?
It becomes embarrassing.
Do you love me?
It becomes desperate.
Do you love me?
Until all of it repetitions become one continuous sound.
So it becomes frantic.
Because it never hears an answer.
Do you love me?
My inner peace is gone as the only thing it experiences now is turmoil, moving almost as restlessly as tidal waves in a hurricane.
Am I good enough to be loved?
To hear those words back that I so desperately want and crave?
Is it possible to forgive?
To even forget?
Because all I seem to do is hold on to that anger, hatred, and disgust.
Focusing it on myself when it shouldn't be.
One of those feelings in my chest is hate, never wanting to forgive.
But then I remember that child who was still hoping for even the smallest bit of validation.
I remember when all that child wanted was to feel loved and cared for.
And sometimes I thinks it's them, reaching out and asking, trying to comfort themselves after all that they've been through.
And that's when I remember to repeat it.
Do you love me?
