I’ve always wanted to be accepted for myself.
Not for what I have
Not for what I do or say.
Not for how I look or dress.
Not for where or how I live.
I want myself to be enough unto itself for you to be able to accept me.
But what is left after all these things are discounted – my age, race, sex, profession; the things I say, write, think and express; the various colours and shapes of my body, body parts, clothing, boots; the things I believe and the things I see as I move through life?
What remains for you to accept when all these things are stripped away?
I’m not sure what the answer is (in words); I only know that whatever it is – that’s what I want you to love me for.