Do You Deserve To Be Loved? What Bull!

I found this and it made me laugh. Written in June last year.

One thing that bothers me sometimes is that when I read people’s innermost thoughts, they’re so different from mine and yet the same. Things which have never even occurred to me and things which I’ve thought about a thousand times.

One of the former things I mentioned are thoughts like “I don’t deserve to be loved” and “Am I so bad that no one loves me?” When I read lines like these, I can’t help but make a face. And there have been times when I’ve hated myself passionately, but I can’t remember ever thinking something like this. More often than is healthy, I’m convinced I’m a horrible person but never because of what other people say.

And then I ask myself ‘Why haven’t I?’ and look within the grey world of my brain cells for the answer.

In this world of wisdom,
No one never really has a clue
They kill their lives every day
With what they say and what they do.

The world and the people are so… petty (that includes myself). Everyone is so blind that there doesn’t even arise a question of who deserves to be loved and who doesn’t. Besides, everyone is loved. Hitler was adored and idolized by millions, the cruel Bill Sikes was loved and cared for by Nancy, and the ignoramus Noah Claypole by Charlotte. Who is to say if they deserved it or not?

My brain boggles at the question of ‘deserving’ love.

There will always be people who love or hate you for what you seem to be. What’s important is to know who you are, to evaluate yourself, and decide whether you can freely respect your own self. Where do others come into this? They don’t know you, they don’t know what goes on in your head. There are only some who are less ignorant about you than others. In the end, it’s only you and your Lord who know your heart and its true colour.

Stop questioning the presence or absence of love or admiration. It doesn’t matter. Even if everyone admires and adores you, there’s no point in it if you can’t look your conscience in the eye.

I’m not saying love isn’t important. To love is to live. What I’m saying is that who you are is not defined by what people think of you. Even if they are people who love you.

I have seen with my very eyes how unjust that thinking can be. I know persons who define ‘good’ and yet people don’t recognize their value and I’ve seen the same people running after those who, when compared to the inner brightness and brilliance of the first star, shine with a cheap glint. The glitter comes off on your hand when you come near enough to touch them.

‘People’, in a general sense of the word, are incredibly stupid and their opinion is of no value at all. In fact, it is worse if they admire you, for then you seem to get a bloated impression of yourself and it’s very painful when you look into your soul and see barren dusty lands where you expected gardens of delight. And you despair that it’s too late to till the soil, too late to sow the seeds: the monsoon has already passed. But then you realize that the rains come every year and that it’s never too late.

But sometimes… sometimes it is.

Take heed, Fatma, take heed.