We Were Never Meant to Perform for Love

"To be fully seen by somebody, then, and be loved anyhow – this is a human offering the can border on miraculous."

I read that sentence, and I didn't move for a while. Not because it's poetic. But because I think, deep down, that's what we're all looking for.

I think all of us, in one way or another, spend our entire lives hoping someone will finally see us. Not the version we perform. Not the filtered version. Not the "I'm okay" version we've perfected.

The real us. The exhausted us. The scared us.

The us that carries insecurities, overthinks everything, dreams quietly, fears deeply – and still hopes someone won't turn away after seeing it all.

Being seen is strangely vulnerable.

It's easy to let people know what you do. It's much harder to let them know who you are.

Most of us spend years carefully curating ourselves. We become the funny friend, the strong one, the reliable one, the independent one. We wear these identities so well that people forget there's a person underneath them who also needs reassurance, grace, and understanding.

Because somewhere along the way, many of us learned that love is conditional.

If you're too emotional, you'll be "too much."

If you're struggling, you'll become a burden.

If you're honest about how broken you feel, people will slowly begin to disappear.

So we become experts at performing. Maybe that's why genuine connection feels so rare. Not because love is rare, but because being known is.

The older I get, the less impressed I am by people who love perfection. Perfection is easy to admire. What's difficult is loving someone through their humanity. Through the days they're distant because life has exhausted them. Through the moments they don't have the right words. Through the seasons where they're simply trying to survive.

Real love doesn't require someone to become flawless before they deserve affection.

It whispers,

"I see all of you."

"You don't have to earn your place here."

"You don't have to perform."

"You can rest."

Maybe that's why so many of us feel tired. Not because life is hard – though it is. We're tired because performing is exhausting. Pretending doesn't just consume energy; it slowly convinces you that the mask deserves love more than you do. And that's a heartbreaking thing to believe.

I don't think healing always begins with advice. Sometimes healing begins the moment someone looks at you and says,

"I believe you."

"That must have been hard."

"You don't have to explain why you're hurting."

"I'm not going anywhere."

There is something profoundly human about being witnessed without being fixed. About being understood without being judged. About being loved without first becoming someone else. Maybe that is what we're all searching for.

Not perfect relationships. Not perfect lives. Just one place. One person. One conversation. Where we can finally unclench our hearts. Where we don't have to edit ourselves into someone more lovable.

Where we can be fully seen…

…and discover that we were never too much.

We were simply waiting for someone with the courage to love us as we are. And perhaps the greatest miracle isn't finding someone who sees us completely.

Perhaps it's believing, after everything we've been through, that we are still worthy of being seen at all.

Thank you for reading.

If this resonated with you, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Feel free to leave a comment or connect with me.

P.S. I write about the quiet parts of being human – growth, vulnerability, relationships, and everything in between. If this piece spoke to you, I'd love to connect. You can find me on:

Instagram/Tiktok/X: @limaaabdul

Until next time,

Withluvcoco!<3