The Mirrors I Keep Falling For

why I confuse being reflected with being loved

I have this problem where I meet someone, fall in love, and expect them to feel the same way. I know I’m a goner when I look into their eyes and see myself staring back. Beautiful as the sun.

I know that sounds silly, but it’s true. I don’t think falling in love is the problem. In fact, I love that about myself. Having the ability to see the beauty in someone is a gift. It’s only a problem when you can’t see the beauty in yourself without someone else being involved.

When they look at me, I become softer. Brighter. More certain. It’s like I start to believe the things I struggle with believing on my own. Looking at them silences that noise in my head that acts as a constant reminder that I’m not where I want to be.

Suddenly the way they talk, walk, and think have become my favorite things on the planet. Their music taste is much grandeur than the average. The way they dress is much nicer than it was before. And everything about them becomes so much more attractive. Little things that have the last person permanently enlisted on the block list have suddenly become insignificant.

But then that look fades. And it feels like losing myself.

So truth is I don’t fall in love with that person. I fall in love with the mirror they hold up to me. I fall in love with the version of myself I get to be in their reflection — the one I never believed I could be on my own.

Maybe the lesson isn’t that I need to love less.
Maybe it’s learning how to hold that mirror myself.