Love isn't enough. Worship me.
Don't ever ask for love.
Have you ever make someone whole?
Yet another K-Series bites me hard. My Liberation Notes. I am not even half-way the series but it feels like the multi-plot melodrama is taken from my existential playbook.
It may sound so demanding of me to command 'worship me,' but really, I believe it is what I deserve. Why? For the simple reason that do give it all when in comes to loving. Besides, before I have met my husband, I get tributes all the time. They have made me feel the pureness of love. I revel in those rather somewhat trivial gestures. They are but grand gesture actually. Poems, songs, sonnets, drawings, bracelets, gems, etc. I love them. I feel the power of love in them.
Now, my husband, perhaps he is going through midlife crisis. He forgets. There has been a time, I feel humiliated because it is un-me. I hit my lowest and beg him for love. I pity myself. Like I've said, it is unlike me. My love deserves more, if not equal. But hey, it is given that love is never equal, so I go for more. Because I give more, the one who promises to love me should love me even more and more and more. Out-love me for heaven's sake! I am not named love for the sake of it. He fails. He is still failing as I am writing this. Getting much worse by the day.
Look I am way easy to love, but one has to be always standing tall for a constant top-up. I ask my self why I have settled with my husband. It has taken years and an almost death experience for a realisation, which is also an answer to my lifelong query of my existential purpose –– my son.
Only my son knows how to love me. He gives me tributes since he has turned a year old. Sweet little flowers he finds along the way. Sometimes sticks. Now and then feathers. At times... bugs, even snail shells. Of course, seashells by the seashore! He says the right words at the exact moments when I need to hear them. Who I am kidding?! He comes from me! It's like loving me both ways. It's strange but true.
Look, only my self could make me happy. And by happy, I mean to feel love as in its fundamental and monumental forms. I find those heart-fluttering state of being in my son. But then, I have to go back to myself. Better yet, make myself anew in joyful terms regardless of my son's affection. I say, I am better these days. Waaaay better. It is actually manifesting materially through my posture and the glow in my face.
Yes, I am making myself whole while moulding a little person into a grown man with impeccable disposition and success... maybe power? Ha!
Watch me,
sC