First Love [19]

I read the psychology behind every first love -- it's painful and unforgettable since not everyone ends up with their first love. For whatever truths lie between the earth and the sky, love is all Greek to me. I have no idea how to break down the overall consensus of love. First love? True love? Eternal love? I rarely talk about love. Sometimes I want a mother's love or friends' or lover's. 

When everything feels right, words can't really describe it. 

And maybe, today, I have a different kind of first love to tell. It's the purest form of love I've ever experienced the moment I knew the little thing(s) grew inside my belly. Like every mother out there, I want to believe that each experience has turned me into a better human. Is this a lie or a truth? It feels like hell whenever I'm constantly reminded of my true self. When it happens, the curse will say I can't escape the truth -- even if I die. I have to make peace with it.  

If there is one possible way to cherish this first love, I want to remember my children for how they've made me feel. Whenever they're around, I feel alive. I feel burdened. I feel needed. This is what Matthew Inman meant when he talked about unhappiness and happiness -- it's fickle, but it's earned. Unhappiness or happiness isn't a mere state of being. It can also make me happy, angry and busy at the same time. I have to find many sustainable ways to protect this love. I have to remind myself in the morning or before I sleep, I am someone else's home. I am my children's home. A home they can always come back to after they leave. Am I really capable of sustaining love and protection in the long run? For I'm nothing inside but rage and chaos and grievance and guilts? I told my younger sister this once or twice, it's all in our genes, and she understood it without further explanation. We would then laugh at it as if a little emoji or funny sticker here and there could ease our confusion. 

I remember asking god for a mother, but mother is me.