I watch you post pictures and memes. I scroll down and stare at your hurt—my heart aching. Your desire to be loved, accepted, known sprawled on my screen with angry words and revealing poses.
A longing for affection in your pleading eyes and skimpy shirts.
You step up to the auctioning block with a soul dying to be loved.
I want to reach through glass, put my arms around your neck, and whisper that a man-made prince will not save you.
But I’m afraid that thought will shatter what’s left of your soul.
And I get angry. Because I know. I’ve been there. I’ve been the one thinking I’m only worthy if some boy somewhere finds me lovely. Yeah. It may have been two decades ago.
But I remember.
Why do we believe we are worth diamonds only if they’re showered upon us? What makes us think a million red roses means we are valued? Cherished? What causes us to see our worth through the eyes of men only looking for one thing?
We’re broken, you and I.
Broken by the society that shows us storybook weddings and happy endings without a picture of the day after. Broken by men with lust we mistake for love. Broken by the lie that we must have a partner to be important.
We can be deceived into believing cat-calls define our worth and followers make us valuable. We crave acceptance in a world that leaves us unfulfilled and only found worthy one snapshot at a time.
We live in a day when likes are sold for the price of purity and sexy is traded for comments that bid with moments of esteem.
And my breath catches in my throat.
Because I knew you when.
When you believed you were strong.
When you believed you were lovely.
When you believed you were worthy.
When you weren’t up for auction.
But now you don’t believe those words could ever describe you, define you. Yet, those words are still true. You are still strong. You are still lovely. You are still worthy.
I see it in you. I see past the haunted eyes and too-much-skin. I see the broken you, yearning to be whole. I see the one that can rise from the mire with her dignity and brilliance.
I know you’re lonely.
I’ve been there—the girl with no Valentine. The girl without flowers or chocolates or gifts. And it can make you feel so small. So tiny and invisible.
But you’re not. You’re not small or invisible. You’re not unlovable. You’re not unlovely.
And if you believe those ideas about yourself, then evil has won the day.
Because I see you.
Loneliness wants to keep you, chain you.
Loneliness wants you to believe a man will save you. That a man’s attention makes you worthy and his kisses and affection restore you.
Don’t give into the loneliness. The cycle of defeat will rob you, strip you, leave you crumbled in despair.
Restoration is never without pain. Healing always comes with hurt.
So, my sweet broken girl. The one I watch from a distance. The one with pain etched in her face. You need to know some things that are true after listening to the bidding lies of this world.