They ask me, "Don't you want to be loved?" And I smile. Because I do. God, I do. I just don't think I deserve it. Every time someone gets close, 1 start counting the reasons they shouldn't stay. The flaws, the scars, the parts of me that feel too much or not enough. I crave warmth, but when it comes, I flinch like it's a threat. I push away the very thing I ache for. And people think I'm cold or distant, but really, I'm scared. Scared they'll see me the way I see myselt. So I stay quiet, pretend I'm fine, and call it peace. But it's not. It's just lonely.