"Favourite Darling"

My beloved. My only darling.

What is it that sours your mood?

...

Love, you know we are one.

I am as much of good as you are. And I will never betra-

...

Love.

...

I'll leave you with a kiss then. Do take care of yourself for me.

My precious darling.

----------------------------------------

This love has me buried alive.

I'm always left to fend off for myself. This love has been made in my head and is the visual of what I envision my love to be. Yet, I'm left feeling isolated from my soul.

My soul always loved calling me darling, He (in my head) loved calling me beloved. Yet as I read the 'Favourite Darling' passage I wondered who was talking to me: Him or my soul? I am so lost I cannot even discern the difference or is it just that 'He' is a version of me? A version that gives the love I so desperately need, that my soul vehemently refuses to provide. A version that gives the love my soul ought to give. Suppose say it is the love my soul ought to provide, then wouldn't this be a betrayal by my own soul?

I've created stories. Stories of 'Him', each time with a different persona: he could be bad boy with a cold heart, or a bad boy on the outside and softie inside, or a golden retriever, or nice presenting but devious internally, or he could be my ultimate dream lover tonight. I could always set a story line for any persona. Age, place, name, the stage could always be set with ease at the expense of myself. Every time I'd dream, the cost of loving myself became too much. And all I could do was put myself on a pedestal and wait for someone to love me. And by the will of heavens will I remember to act wisely to make sure the Him, I do not have to dream to see, is my true beloved.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

The process of creating him in my head consumes me yet I desire and crave him deeply. A love who will subject to me. Whose life purpose is to be my devoted lover. A love that I will love. I pray to heavens for a man as such (though some days, I toss and turn giggling at the possibility it'll be a woman- for the touch of a woman in love is matchless: a man could never compare).

I crave love, deep love, and the best way to get that is through romantic love. And while I'm aware that romantic love can be just as shallow as any other love, it doesn't negate the fact that its deepest depth only matches an intense friendship: One that I can't seem to acquire just yet. I've caught some with potentials of being but when it was time for the friendship to ripen, I was left injured.

So till I can learn to get my soul to replace Him, I will continue the practice of 'whenever I rest, I will dream of Him and melt in his embrace' to comfort my wounded juvenile soul.