Am I hard to love or easy to misunderstand? Some days, I convince myself it’s the latter, that people simply don’t spend the time to see me clearly. Other days, I wonder if I’m denying something about myself, that maybe I am difficult to love, shifting the blame to protect myself from a truth I don’t want to confront.Â
It’s hard to ignore the pattern. I feel like I’ve been through the same routine more times than I can count. That the idea of being with me could be better than the reality. I’ve grown used to being wanted only in pieces, my confidence, my presence, the way I carry myself, but rarely for who I am in full. It’s desire, without commitment.Â
I’ve always considered myself to be confident. And in many ways I am. I’ve always known how to carry myself, how to walk into a room like I belong there. I know how to talk, how to smile, how to make myself appear entirely unfazed. But confidence built on desirability is fragile. I became comfortable with being the “funny,” “carefree,” and “independent” one — roles people love because they require so little emotional effort in return. Those labels are flattering until you realize they also keep people at a distance. They allow people to enjoy you on the surface, without ever feeling the need to learn the layers underneath.Â
This cycle can make anyone feel unlovable. You start to internalize the pattern. You start to wonder if your role in someone’s life is to be a temporary distraction. You begin to believe that maybe you’re not someone people love, you’re someone convenient. Someone to look at, but not worth looking into.Â
At the end of the day, I just want to be loved not as a chore, but as a hobby. Something you do on purpose, just because you want to. Chosen deliberately, intentionally, not situationally.
Desire isn’t inherently evil; it is simply a by-product of beauty, charisma, or convenience. It takes nothing to spark it, and even less for it to fade. Love is the thing that stays, that asks the extra question, that pays attention.Â
So what if I am hard to love? The best things in life don’t come easy. Right? Truly understanding someone requires effort, patience, and the willingness to compromise. I’m still working on myself, how to be less passive, to communicate better, to not deflect, to be vulnerable.
But none of that makes anyone unworthy; if anything, it makes me human. I am worth the trouble, baggage, and all the effort it takes to love me.
No one’s worth is measured by someone’s inability or unwillingness to love you. Someone else’s emotional limitations do not translate into your own inadequacy.Â
If something doesn’t feel right, it’s okay to let it go, not because you’re afraid, but because you trust what you deserve. You don’t have to cling to almosts out of fear of missing out on what could be. You can walk away from what doesn’t make you feel the most fulfilled.
I refuse to fall into this trope of I’m so hard to love, I just don’t deserve it. Maybe I am hard to love. Maybe I am hard to fully understand. But that doesn’t make me any less deserving. I deserve a life where I never have to shrink or apologize for who I am. And if someone wants a place in it, they should continuously choose to understand me, not just simply admire the parts that are easy to digest.