Swipe Left On Perfection

To Me, To You, To The World

Thank you for the ways you loved me, even when it hurt,
For the nights we danced at Liquid Stranger, bodies light and free.
For the moments when the bass was louder than our thoughts,
When the music held the parts of you and parts of me.

Thank you for the laughter, for the inside jokes we kept,
For the way your hand found mine when all the lights were low.
For the strobe-lit flashes where I almost felt like “home,”
Even if that home was one I’d one day outgrow.

Thank you for the sad times, too, the ones that scraped my soul,
For the constant comparisons to a woman I’ll never be.
You held me up against your wife like I was just a shape,
But I was never her, I was always only me.

Thank you for the ache of knowing I could not fit her skin,
For the way that misfit feeling sat and hollowed out my chest.
It showed me I’m not meant to be a shadow of someone,
But a whole, wild person who deserves her very best.

Thank you for the silence when I cried out, “This hurts,”
For calling me “too sensitive” when I tried to speak my pain.
You taught me what it feels like to betray my own soft heart,
So now I vow to never make myself small again.

Thank you for the nights I cried so hard I couldn’t speak,
For the call you dropped my pain to answer, your mother rang your phone.
You said, “I hope she didn’t hear that,” like my sobs were something wrong,
That was the night I realized how deeply I’d felt alone.

Thank you for the days I begged for crumbs and called it love,
For twisting myself into shapes you’d never see.
Because in that desperate reaching, something finally snapped,
And the one who reached back out to hold me… turned out to be me.

I found a “she” who loves me, but she was here all along,
In the quiet voice that whispered, “Please come back inside.”
She lives in my reflection and the way my chest expands,
In the girl who will not leave herself or run and hide.

She is my self-care, my self-love, my soft returning home,
The hands that draw the bath and light the candle’s glow.
She is the one who feeds me when I forget to eat,
Who says, “We’re not done yet, there’s still so much more you’ll grow.”

She is the one lacing up my shoes at sunrise now,
Walking back to fitness like I’m walking back to grace.
Every drop of sweat a thank you to this body that survived,
Every aching muscle proof I’m re-inhabiting my space.

I’m learning that my heartbeat is the only cue I need,
Not the praise of someone who could never really see.
I’m stretching out my boundaries like I’m stretching out my limbs,
Stronger every time I choose what’s actually good for me.

Thank you for the nights I thought I’d break and disappear,
For the mornings after when the mirror made me cry.
Because losing who I was with you returned me to myself,
And now I hold my own gaze, steady, clear, and dry.

So here’s my thank you letter to myself, to you, the world,
For every wrong turn, every tear, each desperate plea.
You were the lesson; I was always the treasure.
And the greatest love I ever found was finally loving me.