Since childhood, I have always been a happy, fun-loving person. I loved bringing joy to others, making people smile, and giving love freely. My heart was open, always ready to share laughter, care, and support. To the world, I seemed cheerful and full of life.

But deep inside, I was carrying something I couldn't quite name—an emptiness, a quiet ache that never went away. No matter how much I gave to others, I couldn't fill that hollow space within me. I was constantly searching for love outside of myself—through relationships, through people's attention, through the hope that someone would come along and finally make me feel whole.

I overgave in every relationship, thinking that if I just loved hard enough, if I gave more, I would finally feel loved in return. But it never truly worked. The more I tried to find my happiness in others, the more disappointed I became. Every relationship felt promising at first, like maybe this time things would be different—but after a few days or weeks, it would fade. The connection would disappear, and I would be left feeling even more alone.

Something has always felt missing. I didn’t understand what it was or why no one could fill it. I thought love from outside would complete me—but it never did. That emptiness was still there, silently growing heavier.

Now, I am starting to realize: the love I was searching for outside has always been the love I needed to give myself. Maybe the journey isn't about chasing others to feel whole. Maybe it's about turning inward and reconnecting with the truth of who I am—with God, with my inner child, with the love that never leaves.

I’m still healing, still learning. But now I know that my happiness doesn’t have to depend on someone else. I am worthy of deep, lasting love—and it begins with me.