Unwanted thus seeking

How devastating it must be for children to feel deeply, to sense emotions they cannot yet describe, and to wonder why they feel the way they do. As a child, I often wished I could give a name to that persistent feeling of doubt, the quiet fear of not being wanted.

This poem comes from a place of reflection on childhood, longing, and the weight of unanswered questions. It’s an intimate exploration of how early experiences shaped my sense of self and how I now gather fragments of my identity to reclaim wholeness. Writing it was a way to honor that journey and the resilience it takes to start rebuilding from what was scattered.
I wrote it for the ones who grew up feeling unwanted, yet still found the strength to rebuild.

Questions To You

In childhood dreams I was much desired,
formed in lovers’ hearts, hoped for, wanted…
I pictured laughter, envisioned a bright future,
a home built on peace and nurture.

But with reality new questions unfolded.
Was I a happening meant —
the seal that kept your love intact?
Or perhaps the burden I felt I resembled?

When you held me for the first time,
did your heart meet mine?
Did you see me at all?
Did any reflection of me fill you with awe?

Did you hold my name with love,
or merely follow custom?
Did you lovingly pick one to release,
one fitting me like a glove?

Did my birthday mean a sacred gift,
bring you joy, or pass unnoticed?
Was it just another number
on a calendar you forgot?

I asked, because silence grew heavy,
because shadows stretched longer.
I asked because my heart grew weary
under questions that would not leave.
Questions unanswered made my mind go astray.

Yet still I am here,
asking no more —
rebuilding all that you scattered.
And in this making,
I make myself whole,
complete… content…

“Did they ever really see you?
Childhood teaches us many things : sometimes love, sometimes neglect, but most certainly it teaches us to question.

Seeking answers to questions lost in infancy is not a lack of maturity or a childish trait of your personality but signs of a mind troubled by rejection. Some questions are not asked for answers, they’re asked to release the weight they’ve carried.

I spent years wondering if I was loved, or merely convenient. When other children played, danced and laughed, I sat in corners wondering what's wrong with me.

This was neither written as a plea for reassurance, nor to reopen wounds, but to close them on my own terms. I may never know what I was to “them”. But I know who I am now: chosen, not by circumstance, but by self. And that is enough.

Today it echoes my fervent declaration: I no longer wait for validation. I became my own. Now I am proclaiming, “ Nobody puts me in a corner anymore.”

ZealCanvas