“We must become so alone, so utterly alone, that we withdraw into our innermost self. It is a way of bitter suffering. But then our solitude is overcome, we are no longer alone, for we find that our innermost self is the spirit, that it is God, the indivisible. And suddenly we find ourselves in the midst of the world, yet undisturbed by its multiplicity, for our innermost soul we know ourselves to be one with all being.”—Hermann Hesse
I never want to be anything like my mother. Passive, Bitter and Old; A slave at best.
I never want to be anything like my father. Aggressive, Monster. Monster.
So I concluded in never having children; So that there won’t be a repeat of history
So that there won’t be a link.
But then there’s that moment when a little 6 year old raises her hands up to me wanting to be carried so I comply and carry her and she wraps her arms around me hiding her little face in the crook of my neck in a fit of giggles and I feel the tickle of her little breath on my throat and in that moment. That little moment, I forget all the bad memories of my own childhood. In that one moment I feel loved. And I let myself love without hesitation.
And I can’t help but think; I can’t miss out on that feeling.