“hurt is all the love you think you deserve, but maybe you deserve better”.
That night, the rain fell heavily, drenching the deserted streets and enveloping the city with the scent of wet earth. I sat in the corner of my room, on a bed that felt cold, despite the thick blanket wrapped around my body. Outside, the gurgling rain seemed to combine with the beating of my restless heart, voicing the anxiety that I had been keeping tightly to myself.
My mind was drifting, caught in a whirlpool of uncertain feelings. This pain, so deep and piercing, had been my constant companion for months. I had gotten so used to it that I no longer knew what it was like to live without this wound that kept eating away at my heart. Every time I tried to drown it out, the pain returned with greater intensity, as if I didn’t want to forget.I watched it begin again
I had always believed that this was what I deserved. That pain was an inseparable part of my life, a punishment for the mistakes I might have made, or perhaps a consequence of dreams I was never meant to have. I felt that this was the love I deserved — a love that hurt, a love that wounded, because maybe, that was the only kind of love I was worthy of.
But that night, something changed. My mother entered the room, her face etched with worry that she couldn’t hide. She came closer, sitting beside me, and without saying a word, she took my hand. Her gentle touch, full of warmth, began to break down the walls I had built around my heart.
“What’s wrong, my dear?” Her voice was soft, yet filled with a warmth I had longed for.
I looked down, unable to meet her eyes. “I… I don’t know what to do anymore, Mom. This pain… it never seems to go away. I don’t know what to do with it.”
My mother nodded, as if she understood every burden I carried. She took a deep breath, then spoke softly, “The pain you’re feeling might be all the love you think you deserve. But maybe, just maybe, you deserve better.”
Her words hit me like a sudden gust of wind. All this time, I had accepted the pain as part of me, as a sign that this was what I deserved. But my mother’s words opened a new perspective, a thought that had never crossed my mind.
“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice trembling.
My mother smiled, a small smile full of meaning, and looked at me with eyes full of love. “Often, we limit ourselves to what we think we deserve. We accept pain as something normal because we feel we don’t deserve anything better. But sweetheart, you need to know that you deserve to be happy. You deserve love that doesn’t hurt, love that is pure and unconditional.”
I was silent, her words echoing in my mind. Perhaps it was true that all this time, I had accepted the wrong kind of love because I believed I wasn’t worthy of something better. I thought that this pain was the price I had to pay for what I called love. But my mother saw it differently. She saw more in me than I ever saw in myself, and her words began to ignite a small spark of hope in my heart that had long been extinguished.
That night, something within me began to change. I couldn’t let go of the pain immediately, but I started to understand that maybe, just maybe, I was worthy of something better. That this pain wasn’t real love, but rather a shadow of the love I had always thought I deserved.
Slowly, I began to release the burden I had been holding onto so tightly. I allowed myself to feel a better kind of love, a love that wasn’t accompanied by wounds and pain. The process wasn’t easy, and sometimes, the pain would return, like a shadow that refused to disappear. But now I knew that I didn’t have to accept it. I didn’t have to see it as part of the love I deserved.
That night was the beginning of a new journey. A journey to find true love, love not only given to others but also to myself. A love that doesn’t wound, a love that doesn’t hurt, but a love full of acceptance and happiness. I deserve a better kind of love, and that night, I began to believe that I was worthy of finding it.
