I believe my everlasting purpose, or yet, the essence of my every existence is love. I mean, generally, love is really the point of being. I get it more or less like everybody gets it. But what gets me is, how I am suppose to contain it or control it. I am a sucker for love, not in such a mediocre fairy tale way, but an addiction I need to shake off in every life that I ought live, or even in this life. Am I really addicted to love itself? Because really, I swoon over materialised love on TV. Pretend love as it may seems, it makes my spirit soar high. Ha! Is that why I have never gotten myself into illegal drugs to get high? Perhaps because I am looking for that kind of high in love, whatever its form or how ever it is displayed. Hmm....
I found my true love in this lifetime. My son. He is the definition of an unconditional love. He loves me regardless of my dysfunctional being. He gravitates. He reveres. He loves me through and through. He knows how to love me. I believe it works both ways too. Well, it is just expected from me because I am his mother somehow. We have our bad times, which mostly coming from my part. I feel ashamed knowing how I am some times with him.
While I watch him put himself to a nap. I have an epiphany –– I will fulfil this purpose in my son (make sure his being is ironclad perfect), then I am off to fall in love again. Absolutely in another life, because I am already sired to my husband in this life.
sC