Love yourself.
That's what my mother used to tell me back in college when her words were yet but spoken analects in a series of what-should-be-dones.
"Always remember that as long as you love yourself, you are never lost. Never lose yourself whatever circumstances there may be."
I believed her.
Because it made sense. The love I have for myself would be my armor, my torch. It would be my saving grace by chance the world suddenly turns its back on me one day.
And so I love myself.
Because that's what my mother used to tell me before the first night I heard her cry in the patio when everyone was sleeping and the several nights that came after; she thought only the crickets could hear her weeps.
Before I saw her crying on bended knees in front of the man who promised to love her forever but failed.
Before I realized how destructive it could be to lose yourself in someone else who wasn't permanent.
Love yourself.
That's what my mother used to tell me when her words were yet but broken analects of what-she-should-have-dones before losing herself to the man who promised to make her his queen but enslave her after a long run.
I believed her nonetheless.
Because that was also what I tried to tell her in return when I could no longer stand seeing her drowning in her own tears, in an ocean of pain, but my words, my begging little words became muffled analects in a vacuum that were never meant to hit her like the way they hit me.
Still I promised to love myself and never to lose it to anyone or anything because it was the very thing she failed to do before she drowned and I don't want that kind of death.
