I used to wonder about people who lived for others. I used to take offense to their dependance on other people’s approval for meaning. But I’ve grown to realize that to be happy, truly happy, even for someone else, is happy still. Just because the source of happiness is through another person, it doesn’t dilute the feeling itself.
Yes, loving and placing hope in others dooms you sometimes. It opens you up for betrayal, abuse and let downs. But when you do it unconditionally, that love is enough in itself. Somehow, in your heart, you realize that it won’t be lost.
I spoke to my grandma today & I realised that she is a person in my life who will walk with me, behind me and ahead of me depending on where I need her, no questions asked. She lives to see days through my eyes. She lives to live through me. And the irony of the situation is, when I see me through her eyes, the world feels that much better. I feel that much stronger.
I hope to give such love to people in my life. To live for them as I would for me. It’s not seeking for approval. It’s hoping for triumph. It’s like grasping the threads that pattern the world. It’s slippery and you may never succeed. But what’s a human being that doesn’t desire the elusive?