They love me, they love me not...

We all love ourselves a lil’ more than everyone. However much, you proclaim “I love you, mom and dad and…”, “I love you, honey…”, “I love you, this and that…” we have our ulterior motives of saying these things. For parents, yes, that umbilical cord is the emotional attachment factor and so many other things like my 1st brush with pepper and those unstoppable wails, my needlework punishments, and while away, if I have closed the doors and windows, switched off the lights, taken off my glasses after reading and well, well, it does get cantankerous at times. It’s that longing for those warm hands of Mama to come pat you when you are sooooo sad with fever and that look,Papa, please come and give me a huge bear hug to make me feel I am daddy’s best-est soldier.

To set records straight, we reciprocate love but I wonder if it is by default or mechanised or simply because we love to. We love for a reason because it matters, it matters to the people who expressed it, it matters to those who want to be loved and it also, matters to the cosmos who plans love stories for that happily after to the sunset kinda thing.

A friend said you can’t take away the right to love someone whether the favour is returned or not. The love remains, despite the indifference. It’s very selfish and very possessing.

It’s a complex equation, the balancing is even worse, trust me. You can either smother with love or frustrate. There is no rationale behind this, it just happens.

Some love(s) can not be questioned, some can be…some can be worked out, some arranged, some kind is just not happening, some very re-assuring, some love is so fulfilling and some so painful, and some kind is so perfect and longing for that one streak of adventure. Some come for a shilling and some for a Taj Mahal, some for nothing and some to nothingness.

Can you question it, anyway?? How can you have things like “true love” and all that? Love is love, right? You have it in all measures and sizes. I feel it’s like tasting wine, the more the merrier…my grandpa is going to shoot me for this, sorry!!!!

Let’s not bind, give space and be accommodating and all that also does not help too, since you drift and lose focus and get bored. Familiarity also kills you, what are we left with? Well, not much but some battered souls, scarred egos and smothered excuses.

Candy floss chewing gum tales, doll house stuff, lyrical affairs and what not, are only the symptoms of love, not love. But I love them anyway, :)

I love myself too much to give away. I know it’s bad, period.

Still smiles.

1 comment:

Morpheus said...

Love is like wine. The more the merrier. Precious!

I should have known long before this. Dayum :)

Good luck to you, and keep writing!