It wasn’t my mother who showed me what real love looked like it was my father. From him, I learned what it meant to love with honesty and presence. He showed me that love was not about grand words or empty promises, but about consistency, sacrifice, and truth. Because of his influence, I carried a heart that was wide open, one that people often mistook for weakness. And because of that openness, people broke pieces off of me, leaving me shattered while I kept yearning for what was supposed to be the most beautiful feeling in life. I learned, painfully, that people could say “I love you” without ever meaning it. And with every false promise, my perspective shifted. I began to wonder if love was real at all or just another illusion dressed as truth.

Still, a part of me held on. I thought love would come naturally from friends, from family, from anyone who promised it to me. But instead, I faced obstacles that made me question my worth. Friends who claimed they loved me made me feel small, invisible. People I trusted threw words that cut deeper than silence. I gave everything I had, only to be left wondering if my love had been wasted. And in those dark moments, I asked myself: if I’ve never truly felt love, how will I recognize it when it finally arrives? How will I know it isn’t just another lie waiting to break me?

Yet, in the middle of all that pain, I discovered something else: even when others failed to love me, I still had the strength to forgive. My father’s quiet lessons lingered in me compassion, strength, and the ability to keep giving even when others didn’t deserve it. Forgiveness became both my shield and my scar. It healed me, but it also reminded me to guard my heart. Slowly, I began to understand that real love doesn’t start with others it begins with me. It begins with how I see myself, how I nurture my own heart, and how I continue to give even when the world tries to take.

My ability to love sincerely, even after betrayal, is not my flaw it is my gift. Hope has carried me through when love felt lost, and no matter how much pain I’ve endured, hope has never abandoned me. Still, I see now that part of me was not just afraid of love, but running from it. Afraid of rejection, afraid of being deceived again. The betrayals I faced left me hiding, avoiding, pushing love away instead of facing the wounds it left behind.

But as I grow older, I see things differently. I know now that I must work on how I see myself because one day, when love finally arrives in its truest form, I want to be ready. Ready to believe it, ready to trust it, ready to receive it without fear.

In the end, I’ve learned that when people say “I love you” without meaning it, it doesn’t make me unworthy it makes me wiser. Forgiveness and hope aren’t weaknesses. They are my strength, my way of loving the world, and myself. And until real love finds me, I will continue to love myself with the same sincerity I’ve always given to everyone else.