I wish I could feel self-worth.  I feel valueless.  I feel like a disconnected cloud of pieces and parts that are here to be taken and used.  I can’t quite connect to the notion that someone may genuinely, really love me, without ulterior motive or aim.  But then I feel it and I have to remind myself that I’m real, that I’m here, that I am very blessed and that I should enjoy this experience, that I should give in to the huge all-consuming swell of hope and satisfaction that comes with every smile, with every little promise.  I’m trying to believe that what’s being given to me isn’t being wasted on me because all of the bad things that echo in my mind might not be true, that I might be something good.

The meaning of my first name is “worthy of love.”