Diaries of a Twenty-Six-Year Old Girl

I’ve heard people talk about the love they deserve—
about how they should be loved,
about how they want to be chosen.

I don’t disagree.

But I think I deserve something more.

I deserve to love.

All my life, I’ve been “loved” by men
who thought I was beautiful, funny, carefree—
and I let them.

They felt safe.
Not because they held me,
but because they couldn’t reach me.

I gave them pieces—
just enough truth to keep them close,
never enough to let them stay.

They wanted more.
But all I knew was how to withhold.

I needed to control.
I needed to know I could walk away untouched.

I wasn’t trying to hurt them.
I was just so afraid.

So I stayed distant—

Until I met someone
who made me realize
I wanted to love deeply.

I wanted to care,
to be soft,
to be nurtured,
to be loved in return.

After hiding myself for so long,
I realized there was still a girl in there who was capable of love.

I wasn’t broken.

I just hadn’t found the right person.

I wanted vulnerability.
To be seen,
in a way no one had seen me before.

I realized how unfair I had been to myself,
giving parts away to people who didn’t deserve them.

I deserved something equal.
Something honest.

A relationship where we could both build, grow and learn together.

I no longer wanted love that depended on distance.
I wanted love that allowed me to stay.