And how does it feel when they compliment you? When they make your words feel like a kid rambling about their new favourite game?

Like all those times where I wanted to infodump about my thoughts, I was allowed to, and no one told me to shut up, and no one ever judged me. And everything that came out of my mouth was always appreciated by at least one person and it was the only person who mattered.

It makes me feel appreciated, heard.

And that’s all I want. Because I lost so much of myself in the years where I’d lost being appreciated.

Unappreciated, it’s hard to remind myself who I am when there’s no one there to tell me. I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing. I’m not obsessively searching for appreciation, I’m not fishing for compliments. I’m just being myself and hoping, so much, with all my heart, that someone will appreciate me and what I feel and who I am and they’ll remind me what it’s like to be me.

I seek validation.

Don’t we all?

I’m an artist. How can my work, the things I’ve shaped myself, be art without being validated? Art is meant to be shared and I’ve sculpted my personality on a handmade canvas. I want someone to appreciate me, elevate me, to art. I miss it, and I miss being able to return the same favour.

I’m tired of surrounding myself with people that make me feel like those stupid modern “art” pieces. I don’t want to be a fucking banana duct-taped to a wall, I want to be Botticelli’s Primavera hanging at the Uffizi. Have some artist sit and study me, appreciate me, draw the greatness they see with their own eyes. Examine the complexities of my figure, uncover meanings and imperfections brought about through time.

But who was the last person that appreciated me that way?

I guess my therapist did two weeks ago but that’s her job. Although, the one that always comes first was my ex girlfriend. She was my best friend in the entire world, she was my universe. She understood me the most, knew me the most, saw me the most. And now I just feel lost. Who am I without someone like that? I can’t remember…

Four years of having someone like her, and oftentimes I find myself wishing I never knew her love at all. Maybe it wouldn’t make me feel so impatient, restless, desperate to experience only a fraction of something close to that again.