[3] Why I need everyone to like me

Because I have trouble liking myself.

Hey, I can do it sometimes.

But only briefly.

I’m like a car that keeps

running out of gas

and needs you to refill it.

Which in itself makes me

not like myself much.

Makes me feel like a needy kid

looking for someone to fill him up.

Reminds me of how it felt

when I was a real kid,

dependent for fuel on

the next refueling.

A smile from dad.

A hug from mom.

Few and far between, sometimes.

I see now what I couldn’t see then.

That they were tired, and sad,

and scared, and confused, and

running on empty themselves.

That they couldn’t give me

what they just didn’t have.

And that I was wrong to think

their inability was about me.

Still.

Their problem became my problem.

Their emptiness became mine.

So now I have to learn what they

didn’t know and couldn’t teach me:

how to like,

and accept,

and approve of,

and love,

and take

really

really

really

good care

of myself.