When you hold my hand on the way home from work, and you tell me you love me—everything feels not quite normal. I feel happy. Yet at the same time—sad. Happy because you love me. And sad because I don’t love me.
The truth is—I don’t know what to feel. I am not used to being loved. I don’t know why someone like you would ever love someone like me. And I feel guilty for not being able to love you the way that you love me.
But I want to be loved. I want you to teach me how to love you. I want you to teach me how to love me. I want you to teach me how to love like it’s a normal thing to feel. That’s why every time you tell me you love me—I tell you I love you.