Could you love me while I hate myself?
Could you love me, though I don’t deserve it?

Could you love me like there’s no one else
Even though you know I can’t return it?

Could you love me when the water’s rough?
Or when I leave you in a desert?

Could you love me, though I speak with knives?
Knowing all too well that you’ll get hurt

If you can’t answer, “Yes, ” just go
I’m more trouble than I’m worth

Could you love me while I hate myself?
Because I don’t know how this works

I never learned how this works

This song came on a Spotify shuffle last night and I knew I had to write about it. To be fair it’s a decent question with where society currently stands. I think a lot of people don’t love, dislike, or even hate themselves. I am one of those people.

Could you love me, though I don’t deserve it?

I’ve been realizing over the last couple weeks I’m somewhat of a hypocrite. I preach that everyone deserves love and happiness, while also genuinely believing I don’t deserve love and happiness. Where does this come from? Why do I hold myself to this higher standard than the people around me, and when I slip up, or can’t keep up, I think I deserve to be punished for it. In the form of not being allowed love, or happiness.

Could you love me like there’s no one else,

Even though you know I can’t return it?

Ok the one thing I’ll give myself a pat on the back for is I can love other people. Arguably I love a little too much, it causes me to be a bit much for some people. I’m not sorry about being enthusiastic about people I find to be special. The likelihood of us being here, alive, at the same moment in time, it kinda means when you meet someone special, it’s a big deal, because our time here is precious and not everyone is special. Trust me I’ve met some real thick headed people.

I’m more trouble than I’m worth.

Now THAT I believe. Finally something I can get behind. I think this is where I start to understand or at least have reasoning for why I don’t believe I deserve love or happiness. To love me is a chore, and what you get in return.. Well the juice isn’t worth the squeeze. I’m a lot. I got these god damn demons floating around my head and my anxiety and panic disorder make me a difficult person to deal with. Sprinkle in a little childhood trauma and abandonment issues, and you’ve got the perfect recipe for swiping left, as people do in this new age of dating.

This energy I possess ebbs and flows, sometimes I think the fact that I genuinely love taking care of people to a potentially unhealthy degree could make me a good partner for someone who wants a partner who cooks and cleans and is handy and etc etc etc. Then I sit here and think about the fact that the dogs don’t go in my room so currently there is a fan going in my room to dry pasta and I think. Who wants to date the guy who dries pasta in his bedroom on weekends? My weekends are not filled with drinking and partying, as I don’t do either of those things. My weekends are filled with cooking and finding things to keep me busy. Today I fed my sour dough and made English muffin dough. I’ll wake up at 6 am to shape the English muffins and set them to proof before I sneak back to bed for a short time. I’ve got two types of pasta drying for tomorrows dinner. Today I made whiskey soaked ribeyes, I made my own pickled vegetables. I even made an apple and cardamom shrub that I think would go good with Citadelle Jardin D’Ete gin and sparkling water. I refilled the cold plunge so I can start doing that again, even though I realized I do it as a form of punishment.

All this was a long winded way of saying, Could someone love me when I hate myself?

Personally, I think I’m more trouble than I’m worth.

Where the skies are gold not gray,

J.