It is much easier to believe that you don’t love me or that you will leave me, than to address to why I am still holding on to you when I don’t love you. And to say I don’t love you is also not true, because there is a part of it that feels like it. I have to use the word ‘love’ you see, for the feelings, words and actions experienced are described as such, and that is my idea which has been living with me for so long. Yet deep inside me I know it is not really what it seems to be. But I hang on to you anyway, because of the feeling that I love you, so I conclude it has to be love! But soon you will see I will start accusing you that you don’t love me again, or say that you will leave me despite how much you have expressed or shown me how true your love is for me. And I will scheme against you, just to make sure that you prove to me that you really do not love me and have always wanted to leave me. I know this sounds absurd but it is just easier to put the blame on you, then to fully address what is in me. I don’t really care what you think. I just need my needs fulfilled.
When I begin to be honest with myself and see what is within me, I will begin to realize that the love I have for you is there but not pure. If love is not pure, then is it still love? If it has qualities; albeit subtle; of manipulation, wherein lies the love that I know cannot be abhorred? I can argue with the world how love is defined by a description of certain feelings, certain actions or certain qualities which I experience with you just to prove that I do love you, yet at the same time collect solid evidence how you are the one who don’t love me, and how you have betrayed me. But no matter how much I say or do or try to make you wrong, I can never run away from myself – for I know that the issue here is not about you not loving me, but me not loving me; because there has never been a you, and I never needed you.
Do I love myself enough to hold on to you to fulfill a malicious need in me, even if it means that at times I will have to dishonor myself in doing things I do not wish? Or do I love myself enough to let you go, and start to seek for another to fill in the void? But where would I be, but back at the doldrums of the pit – back at where the shit begin, where the shit lay? And round and round I will go in cycles, because I am seeking for something, and yet not knowing where to find it, so I become like a shameless whore, a beaten victim, unloved and unworthy of anything or anyone that comes along the way.
I may drown myself in sorrows, dramatizing how cruel the world is and how I have been used. Hasn’t it been the same when I had held on to you just so I could make use of you? Why is it that it is easier to make you the wrong, when in truth, I am the ultimate director of this whole storyline? Not only am I the director, but the scriptwriter and too, the actress. Honesty without veracity – how I am still left with nothing more.
If I am unable to love myself, how could I ever love you – for I will then sell myself short, and hate you for what I would have myself do unto me. That is not Love, though it will look like it – what selfless sacrifice, they would all say! That is just love which is illusionary and unreal, manipulative and suffocating.
A teacher once told me that all relationships are illusionary, and soon I cannot help but to agree. If there is to be a relationship born out of Love, then wouldn’t it entail a sense of freedom, which is purposeless save for the Lover and the Beloved expressing Love for themselves through one another? Yet as paradoxical as it is, the innate Love that I am makes my love for you so sensuously delightful even without you having to do anything. So where is Love coming from, except from within me?
I will need sheer honesty with myself from the space of integrity in order to come clean with myself and you. It is until I begin this that there’d be an absolute chance that our love would dissolve and thus emerged Love.
In that Love are two melted – infused and defused, whole yet transparent.
In that Love – two become one, and one becomes just …