I Wish I Would Love Her More

I wish I’d spend more time with her—get to know her more, the things she’s truly passionate about, discover who she really wants to be outside of other people’s expectations, who she plans to be beyond others’ plans for her. Instead of always taking her for granted, leaving her too many times in the company of other people.

I wish I’d listen to her more. To her thoughts closely without anyone’s influence, to her own opinions, to her secrets, to the things she really believes in, the things she hopes for and stands up for. Instead of always shutting her down, invalidating her thoughts, her emotions, her fears and disappointments.

I wish I’d look at her more—carefully unravel her layers, stare at her flaws and assure her that she’ll overcome, see through her disguises and grant her the freedom to be who she ultimately wants to be. Instead of imprisoning her in somebody else’s identity, corrupted with somebody else’s standard.

I wish I wasn’t scared of her. Because she wasn’t scary. She’s just scared. Of her setbacks, her failures, her shortcomings.

I wish I’d stand by her more. Help her out in those moments, in her fears and doubts. Be there to support her more in her weaknesses, encourage her that she can survive and that she will. Instead of always putting her down, dulling her shine, doubting her strength, making her believe lies about her, making sure she won’t make it.

I wish I’d empower her more, in whatever circumstances she’s in, however strong the waves are, no matter how alone she feels. Instead of always making her believe that she needs assurance from someone else, that she needs somebody else’s strength to get her through the day.

I wish I’d destroy her more, her insecurities and disbelief, her negativities and weaknesses, her desire for approval and longing for false promises.

I wish I was just there. Immersing myself in a much deeper understanding of who she really is and who she wants to be.

I wish I’d appreciate her more, appreciate myself more.

Because she’s not so bad after all, she’s fun to be with when nobody’s around. I like that version of her more, how she’s naturally herself without the intention of deceiving anyone. It’s amazing to watch her take her own time, see her not caring about how the world sees her, watch her in full honesty – about the things that make her happy and the things that doesn’t.

And I wish I’d love her more, love myself more. Love her at her worst and not resent her. Adore her ugly parts and not condemn her. Just fully loving her in all her layers, in her softness, in her shame, in her true self. 

Dian Tinio is the author of Catastrophes, available here.