Growing up, I always wondered why people preach self-love if they made you hate yourself.

Isn’t that hypocritical?

My journey to self-love has not been easy. It’s hard to love yourself if you keep seeing every reason to hate yourself. It’s even harder when you have a twin that people can easily compare you to. But growing up to become an adult only shows you the importance of self-love and how you can’t fully grow into the person you want to be without it.

Self-love will heal you to the cellular level. And it is not to be confused with selfishness; self-love is self-mastery. I didn’t know how much I needed to love myself until I started to. I started slowly and took the scenic route, the long way around.

The journey includes figuring out what self-love means exclusively to me, and it turns out it is me, all along, who knows best how to love me. I know what comforts me, what brings me joy, what combination of things works for me, what doesn’t work for me, what makes me happy, what makes me sick, and how I need to be loved. I find out all of these things because I put my honest life’s time into figuring them all out.

For a long time, I studied my darkness and I embraced my light. Now I know that I’m the only fucking love of my life. And no, I’m not one bit sorry about it because self-love has saved me.