I see exactly who you are,
and I see exactly who you could be.

Absence,
masquerading as presence.
So painful
to look into your own abyss,
that you’d rather run the other way.
Understandable.

I see through your various masks,
the ones you had to build,
and I also see the true you,
the beast,
the scared child,
the terror,
translated in fury.
And still,
I honour,
and accept both:
the false and the true,
with deep contemplation, resilience, tolerance,
purity of heart, devotion, unconditional love…
… and desire… a lot of desire.
A rare combination in a single person.

To you,
being truly seen
is terrifying.
So you escape from me,
but you actually run from yourself,
between volatile rage and unfillable void,
in the opposite direction of truth.
And yet you look for truth
in places that don’t have it,
seeking in others what you had in me,
but you’ll never find it in them.

I wish you courage.
I wish you discernment.
I wish you self-reflection.
I wish you self-soothing.
I wish you self-compassion.
I wish you can be alone with yourself,
and love yourself alone.
And I wish you allow yourself
to be embraced by truth,
and not inversion.
I wish you remember who you are.

I see your inside,
your feeling of self-unworthiness
that you projected onto me.
Your self-loathing
that makes you destroy vulnerability, beauty.
You can’t bear it.
But you also desire it.
You destroy what you love.
Hate and anger are your only emotions,
so you express true love with wrath and destruction.
Understandable.

I know, and you know,
that being truly seen and accepted
is a rare kind of connection.
You will find other sources of supply
to control, manipulate and dominate,
to appear settled,
but they’ll never be me.

I see your potential,
your freedom,
who you could become
if you chose healing over defence.
I believe in the true you,
in your capacity for change,
even when you yourself don’t believe it,
and it’s not fantasy or delusion,
I just see it,
my dear running, fragile narc.