imagage from https://www.powerofpositivity.com/self-love-is-harder-than-ever/

They say you can’t love
anyone lest you love yourself.
I recognize the logic, I want to believe it,
but skepticism’s motivational.
If I did love myself, I’d love everyone
like an extension of myself; an embrace disconnected.
That’s how much I love you all.
That’s the depth.

I treat everyone better than myself.
I’d never criticize you
as I do to myself.
Why do I disrespect myself, habitually?
Why do I verbalize this vitriol,
calling it love, undeserving?

Sometimes, I feel like a burden,
a cruel afterthought.
Those things aren’t true.
I know that.
Lingering thoughts are intrusive,
they’re debilitating,
and occasionally, fleetingly,
I believe them.

Every day’s a struggle.
Free days don’t exist.
Mistakes and poor decisions
cover me like unhealed bruises.
I lie to myself and say I’m trying
to love like a child, before things
got complex and ugly, and
the possibilities felt endless.
I miss the effortless smiles and laughter.
I miss the innocence, when I
thought only words could damage.

I say I’m doing my best,
that I’m trying to learn to
love myself again.
But I think those are lies
I keep as means of self- comfort.
How do I begin to love myself?