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mvnicagellers · 2 years

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I used to eat up romance books to fill my loneliness, trying to dull the pain because I never felt truly loved - and this included friends and family - out of someone's free will: not because I was born from them and now they felt obligated to take care of me and try to love me, or because once we got close they realized they didn't like me that much but it was too late to drop me. I read those books because I wanted to know what it felt like to be someone's favorite person, and not the second (or third) choice. You see, I did have friends, but they were always my best friends, while I was never theirs even if I tried to do everything to please them. Don't get me wrong, I did those things because I loved and wanted to make them happy, but also in hopes that one of them decided that I was worthy of love. Books gave me a bit of hope. "Well, if these characters can be loved, maybe one day I can be loved too."

I think I didn't hate my appearance on most days, but I surely was hyperaware of it. And this is embarrassing, but sometimes I practiced dialogues I knew would happen the next day in the mirror to see if I would look ugly while talking, and what facial expressions suited me best, because I was desperate not to be seen as unattractive.

Perfection was always my goal, especially in work and academia. I recall feeling so out of place my first semesters in college. Everyone had read so many authors, they knew so much and I could only think "I'm never gonna make it". I was terrified of being behind on things, of not knowing enough. My biggest fear was not being able to develop a good research project when the opportunity came - if it came.

I was afraid of everything, everyone and mainly of myself. The world seemed so big and ready to shatter me to pieces if I took the wrong step, like I could fall off the tightrope I constantly walked on at anytime.

And I did. I fell right into the arms of my biggest fears. The fear of opening up, of being truly known by someone (and expecting they would run away as soon as showed them all of me), of talking a bit louder and trying to make connections, of putting myself out there even if the possibility of failure scared me to death.

I wish I could give that girl a hug and tell that it was ok to afraid. I wish I could show her how it all turned out, that in the end she gets everything she longed for since she was a child. I wish she could see how this morning I woke up next to the most handsome man in the world, holding me like he always has, through the good and the bad. How he makes me feel appreciated and beautiful even without makeup, how he finds my body gorgeous and on days I can't see it, he loves it until I'm able to. How smart he is, the way his eyes light up while talking about what he works with. How heart warming it is to watch it. Yes, please explain the world to me, I would love to learn everything about it with you. Even if I already gave you mine, with the certainty that you are never going to shatter it, because you taught me to trust again. I want to tell her how he supports me through everything, how he doesn't let me doubt myself not even for a second. How he believes in me. How I believe in him too, how this man can achieve anything he wants to. And I'll always be on the front row, clapping and bursting with pride, just like he does for me. How he kisses me until I forget my name, loves me so damn good there is not a single doubt our bodies where made for each other. I wish I could tell her we found love and it is so much more than she could have expected.

That girl should see how after waking up with him, in my beautiful apartment downtown, with simple yet elegant decor and a window that shows me all the city lights every night while my baby holds me, I head to work in the university she has dreamed of teaching at. How I'm a incredible professor. How it was so worth all those restless nights, because I was able to develop that research project I dreamed about since high school. How that grew into a more complex version for my master degree, and how I can call myself a doctor now because she didn't give up. How I still do research besides teaching, and my job fills me with so much joy and excitement it still feels like a dream sometimes. How we are learning more and more every single day, the absolute pleasure I get from it. I want to show her that thrill, the feeling of almost combusting from happiness and curiosity after connecting the dots, is still here. That it has unraveled a whole new world to me, and I have all the possibilities to go further into it. She should know that my old teachers are now my colleagues, and we even partner up for projects. I am 100% fullfilled in not only doing what I love, but being succesful at it.

I wish I could tell my younger self she is safe. That I still read those books, but not wondering when it is going to be my turn. Instead, I read them and can finally understand what it feels like. I get what the characters meant by the butterflies in their stomach, because I get them every single time I take a look at my life now.

-The kind of thought I will have in a few years.

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