Cogitation

"Why do you like me?"

She has heard herself asking this to a lot of people over the course of time.

It wasn't reserved just for her suitors.
All her loved ones heard this question a few times over.

It was an urge to know why she was deemed worthy to be in that person's life.
It was a desperation to understand why they didn't discard her when she proved herself useless.

It confused her greatly why some people chose to remain loving to her while some others didn't.

She asked herself if this confusion implied that that's the way she viewed others.
Did she disregard them when they stopped benefiting her? Not really...

She stopped trying to hold on when holding on was difficult though.
She stopped being the one who loved fiercely because she had no fierceness left inside her. She loved the ones who loved her but those who were indifferent found themselves losing her slowly yet surely.

Now they knew about each other because of what they chose to share with the world.
They would shout it out to the Instagram void and she heard their news, rarely acknowledging it but surely keeping a mental note. She was sure they did the same.

And what about those who left her? They never heard from her. She thought about them. She missed them at times too. But they stayed distant due to both their doings. Or lack thereof.

But why did people like her? What made her worth loving?
Her words? Her actions? Her appearance or her connections? Is it the memories they once shared that excused her behavior and distance now? Is it the kindness she portrayed that gave them the strength to put up with her? Or was it her penchant to choose good people that made her lucky enough to receive love even through her most ugly?

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"Why do you still like me?"

Even when she had done many wrongs and created many problems, some people still decided to stick by her.

There were some who left much easier than she had expected. They gave up on her over things she knew were trivial. That only created more doubt in her.

She left some over her mistakes too. The shame was too great for her to go back.

Some were affected by her actions but stayed through the pain. Their relationship was damaged but not irreparable. She had to be gentle with those. She owed them that much.

Some remained unphased no matter what. Those were the ones that most caught her attention.
Were they unaffected because they cared that much? Or because they didn't care at all? What was behind their unshaken demeanor? She trod carefully around these people. They sparked fear and relief at the same time.

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"Did you ever really like me?"

She only asked this to very few people. The ones who came back after leaving her. The ones who wanted to mend.

Many were successful and were dear friends once again. Their mistakes forgiven and forgotten.

But she loathed some of them. And to those people, she asked this. She couldn't trust them once again. She just needed the ever-longing closure over the past. They were not welcome back.

Sadly, there was a third group who deserved to hear this question.
They were the ones that would never return. The ones that left without a proper goodbye.
She asked them the question in her mind, destined to never receive an answer. Their actions felt personal at times; like a way to inflict pain towards her.
But she knew that wasn't the case. She had to make her peace with death after all. 

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"Do you even like me?"

Only one person heard this question in her entire lifetime. 

You would expect the words to be sputtered during a heated argument with one's lover. Or when one reaches an unnatural calmness after having their heart broken into two.

But she wasn't one for dramatic and outwardly emotions. She chose silence in the face of anger and sadness alike.

No, the question was asked repeatedly, but only to one person.
Herself.

She would give anything to know whether she was truly lovable. Even by herself.