My favorite person of all is halfway across the world from me. He does not even know he is my favorite person. It sounds so complicated when put like that but to be brutally honest, I do not care anymore. Unlike my seventeen-year-old self, I overcame my fear of feeling. And that’s the thing I love most about my favorite person: he allows me to feel.
He is kind, dark humored and a spaz which I like. He encourages me to find the truths about myself and life in general I am so thirsty to know about. He does not judge me for the mistakes I have committed and the ones I am continuously making. His smile and his voice take me home. He is home.
What do you do when your favorite person’s favorite person is not you?
When I saw this I wanted to break things. I hurt a little. But I know that I am not in the position to hurt. I love and it is such a beautiful thing. I do not need to feel ashamed or guilty about it.
My favorite person and I share the same belief when it comes to loving and accepting oneself. We termed it self care because looking after yourself should not be limited to physical aspects alone. It should include the habit of accepting you for who you are and embracing the things about yourself that you call flaws.
And that does not mean I love myself always. No, I have bad days, too. Sometimes there are months I have more bad days than good and that is okay. Self care is a lifelong process. Start small or not. It might sink in in a month or in four months but do not give up. There’s plenty more days to come.
Written for The Daily Post.