What has my loving you, got anything to do with my feelings of being abandoned, being betrayed?
What has my loving you, got anything to do with wanting to be with you, to kiss you, hold you, or to the extent of having you make love to me?
What has my loving you, got anything to do with having you love me too, to the extent that I must own you, that I must be the only one?
What has my loving you, got anything to do with my nurturing you, guiding you, bringing you up, having you to be the best of what I think is best for you?
What has my loving you, got to do with being married to you, giving birth to you, or having you show your love to me through your words, your actions?
What has my loving you, got anything to do with wanting approval from you, or wanting you to want approval from me?
What has my loving you, got anything to do with you having to come home to me every night, wishing me good morning, having your attention only to me, when I myself cannot promise my attention to you?
What has my loving you, got anything to do with anything at all?
Are they not only ideas of love associated with my loving you, conjured and interpreted by the world, having me believe that when I love you, we ought to live happily ever after together?
How on earth did the world come up with such correlations, when in truth, it has nothing to do with anything, nothing to do with love?
If these ideas were not of existence, then what can be made of love? What is the underlying trueness of love?
Only Love is real they say. But, what is Love? Apparently, love is untrue, but Love is bona fide. But what is the difference, when once those feelings are felt, conditionings of such manifests itself into actions in most certain ways.
And if these actions are manifested from love, why the conditions? Why the ideas?
And you see now the confusion? Love and love are not the same. Love is unconditional, while love is conditional. Love is even when you seem to be hurting me, I am still loving you for it; and love is when you seem to be hurting me, I begin to hate you for it – for love and hate are simply different sides of the same damned coin.
Is it not enough that I love you?
Is it not enough that you are well and happy, even when you don’t love me?And my little girl came up to me and told me, “mommi, I love you.” And I said, “I love you too.” And she giggles and laughs, “of course mommi, of course you love me.”
Such innocence, such purity; already knowing… and could it be true when Byron Katie says, “you love me, only that you have not realized that you do.”
What a dream! What a nightmare! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!
For perhaps, even my loving you, has nothing to with you. Because perhaps, there is not really a you, there is not really a me. Who are you anyway? And who am I?
If that is the case, then how could love exist? And if love does not exist, what the hell are we doing?!?!?