When I was younger, I didn’t think too much about it. I didn’t think I was the most beautiful person, but I didn’t think I was completely invisible either. I assumed love would come naturally, the way it seemed to come for everyone else. But as I grew older, I began to notice the difference. The way men looked at my friends, how easily they were complimented, how conversations flowed with them. And then there was me, always present, but never quite included in that kind of attention. I kept telling myself it would change with time, that maybe I just needed to grow into myself.
I have lived most of my life with a condition that affected my face in a way I cannot hide. What started as a skin issue slowly became something more permanent—deep scarring, uneven texture, discoloration that draws attention before anything else about me does. It is often the first thing people notice, and sometimes the only thing. By the time I got into my thirties, it really dawned on me: no man had ever looked my way, not really.
I tried to fix it. I went to hospitals when I could afford it, tried treatments, followed advice from people who were sure they knew what would help. Some things improved it a little, but nothing changed the reality of how I looked, or how people responded to me. My friends were getting married, building families, moving into new stages of life. And there I was, always there, always watching, always waiting for something that never came.
At 40, I am still a virgin. Not because I chose it, not because I was waiting for marriage, but because no man ever came close enough for intimacy. For a long time, I cried about it. I questioned myself, wondering why it had to be me, why life had chosen this for me. I prayed, I hoped, I wished. But nothing changed.
Now, I have made a decision. I want to adopt a child. I have so much love inside me, and it has never been the problem. I just haven’t had where to put it. I used to think I needed a man first, that love had to come before I could create a family. But I don’t think that way anymore. I don’t want to wait for something that may never happen. I want to give love to a child who needs it, to build a life that feels full and real on my own terms.
I still think about what it would be like to be noticed, to be wanted, to hear someone say I am beautiful. I still wonder what that would feel like. But I don’t stay there anymore. I don’t let it define me. This is my life. Not the one I imagined, but the one I am choosing to live—and I am learning, slowly, to make it enough.
“An anonymous message shared with our editor as part of the Raw Confession Series. Want to share your own story? Send it to elohor@elowellmax.com.”
