Love that feels like love

When I was little, my mom used to tell me that if a boy was mean to me, it was because he liked me. I didn't understand what she meant then. To be completely honest, I still don't. Because when I think of love, I don't think of cruelty disguised as affection. I don't think of harsh words, mixed signals, or people who make you question your worth. I think of being wanted. I think of someone who needs me, someone who gets lost in my eyes as if they're looking at something beautiful. I think of someone who tells me I'm beautiful without hesitation, without being asked. I think of warmth. Of certainty. Of staying. And yet somehow, it's become so normal to live without these things. So normal to pretend we don't crave tenderness. So normal to settle for half-hearted feelings and almost love. Maybe that's what I never understood. How we're taught to mistake pain for affection, distance for mystery, indifference for desire. Because all I've ever wanted was a love that feels like love, a love that doesn't hurt first and explain itself later.