I like when I make myself.
But I don’t like when other people make me.
Because, sooner or later they all leave.
All of them.
And I am stuck with myself.
I become the constant reminder of people who could have stayed but chose to leave instead. People I became vulnerable for. People I let myself change for. People I had gotten used to. People that never got used to me though.
And so, when they made me, they made sure that living with myself, after they leave, becomes unmanageable for me. To the point that if I am strong enough, I make myself again. And if I am not, which is usually the case, I allow myself to be made again.
Until one day, I leave myself, and no one has to make me again.