Has anyone ever truly loved me? Can anyone have loved me if they haven’t truly known me? Have I ever been known? Has anyone ever really seen me? Have I seen me? How can I have if I am not yet fully formed?

I’ve always been accused of being self-centered. It’s been used as a point against me. As proof that I’m bad. But my “self-centeredness” was always out of self-reflection… of curiosity about myself… While everyone else around me was actually centering themselves, their own feelings, their own comforts… I was always willing to be uncomfortable. I’m not even sure I knew what comfortable was. I wonder how early I learned that my needs were a burden. I wonder when I began to desperately erase myself.