I need him to see me. I mean really see me. Not the girl I hide behind. Not the curly long hair or the contoured face or even sometimes my body.
I need him to see the girl who used to cry herself to sleep every night, sometimes over nothing, other times, over everything.
I need him to see the girl who cringes every time a voice is raised, reminding her of only past memories.
I was a mess of a girl when I first met him. Now I am even more a mess of a woman.
I need him to see me, to accept me, flaws and all. Lord knows I sure have a lot of them.
I need reassurance every day that he’s not going to leave me.
Even though I put up a fight just to see if he cares.
I need hugs and constant I love you’s.
I’m a chronic over-thinker. Always wanting to know what’s on his mind.
I need texts and calls so I don’t worry myself to death wondering if something happened while he only just went out to get our dinner.
I need so much more than any normal girl.
Because there’s so much more to me.
It’s the price you pay for loving someone with anxiety.
I need him to see that I’m worth it.
I need him to see me.