To everyone who's ever told me not to care about them

Don't you dare tell me you don't matter.

You matter to me. You matter to me.

And don't you say you shouldn't. Don't fucking tell me what I should and shouldn't care about. Don't you tell me what belongs in my head and in my heart. Don't even. Don't you dare.

Don't tell me your story's not worth continuing when I am hanging on every word like reading my favorite book for the first time. I am, I am. You trust me, say you believe in me, yes--then don't tell me what I'm seeing isn't real.

This ain't no hallucination, darling. I'm wearing down my fingertips, pleading myself hoarse for this. For you. For you. For you. I'm not wasting my time; don't insult me.

You want to make this about me? Let's go. If this is all about me, if this is about me being "kind" and "deserving to be happy," okay. Okay. If you just want to make sure I don't get hurt, then don't hurt me, darling. Don't. If what I want is all that matters, then treat yourself with the kindness you'd treat me. That's what I want. But don't you sit there and tell me I can't see you when your light is hurting my fucking eyes. Don't tell me I can't fall a little in love with everyone I meet. I do. I do.

Oh god, I do.