I hate how I think

I hate that I hate myself so much,
as if my heart’s too full of flaws to fit—
too many cracks for anyone to see,
too many scars I can’t hide,
but I love everyone else so much.
I love their smiles,
their laughter,
their beauty,
even when they can’t see it.

I love the way they shine,
how they stand so tall while I shrink,
drowning in the weight of my own self-doubt.
I give them pieces of my heart,
even when mine feels empty,
hoping that maybe one day
someone will look at me
the way I look at them,
with kindness,
with understanding.

I love them so much,
but it’s like loving a reflection
in a shattered mirror.
I can’t seem to see myself
without the cracks,
without the hurt.
I wish I could love myself the way I love them—
without hesitation,
without questioning if I’m enough.
But instead,
I’m drowning in this fight,
this tug-of-war between
who I wish I was,
and who I am.

And yet, I can’t stop loving them.
I can't stop giving pieces of myself,
hoping one day I’ll feel like I’m worth the love
I so freely give away.
Maybe one day,
I’ll learn to give that love back to myself,
but until then,
I’ll keep loving everyone else
with the hope that someday
I’ll learn to love me too.