I have loved, but no one has ever come close to my first, myself.
I spend my days tending to her. I do my own hair and every morning I do my own makeup like it is a ritual of care I never rush through. I write her letters in my journal that I may or may not ever read back.
We sleep together every night and wake up together in the morning as if I am both the one who holds and the one who is held. I know almost everything about her, how she likes her tea, how certain fabrics feel against her skin, and all the small details that make her who she is.
I have never known anyone as deeply as I know her, and I do not think I ever could again. I thank God every time I see her reflected back at me.
I let others witness my life so I can notice things I might miss, so I can see myself from angles I cannot always reach. I thank every person who has stepped into that space, even if they did not stay.
Still, I value her above any third presence that enters and leaves, because my love for myself is the deepest I have ever felt.