Illusions of happiness

We stared at each other from opposite sides of the room, our emotions beckoning each other yet too scared to move. Too scared to break further what had already been broken.

'It's an illusion,' she said quietly, her tears escaping easily down her cheeks and for a moment, I longed to hold her, to piece together what had already been broken but--

'Self love is an illusion,' she added.

'What do you mean?' I couldn't stop myself from asking.

'The illusion that anyone could probably love us as much as we think we deserve including ourselves is an illusion,' she continued. I listened quietly allowing her thoughts to roam freely as I sunk unto the floor of the corner of her room.

'It's funny,' she chuckled, 'How hard we try to convince ourselves that we love ourselves as much as we wished someone else loved us. Maybe it's a refreshing conclusion and we don't need to pretend anymore to love ourselves this much. Maybe no one including ourselves is capable of such love. Maybe we were just meant to appreciate ourselves, enjoy ourselves but to fully love ourselves...?' she paused as if re-contemplating her theory, she stared into nothingness.

'I think I am at the point where I have come to the conclusion that self love is an illusion. That we could possibly love ourselves as much as we wished other people loved us,' she repeated. 'Because perhaps we have no idea how to love anyone including ourselves. Perhaps it is a relief to come to this conclusion that no one could ever love you as much as you deserved including yourself. Then maybe it is okay to look outside of yourself. To reach out for the love that you wish you had. A love that even you don't know how to give yourself. Maybe sometimes it's okay. It's okay to live in the realms of delusion that someone could probably love you as much as you think you deserve and to rest in that delusion. Maybe it makes you happy for a minute or two but isn't that life? Isn't life made up of fleeting moments of pleasure that comes crumbling down anyway?' she seemed deep in her thoughts. Then all of a sudden as if aware of my presence, turns to me.

'You remember your childhood, right?'

I nodded patiently.

'I'm sure you remember how awesome it was? I'm assuming you had a good childhood?' she asked rhetorically.

'Yeah,' I lied.

'Really think about it. It wasn't as good but it's okay. You deserve this fleeting moment of pleasure where you get to lie to yourself and build it up in your mind. It's life. And maybe I deserve this fleeting moment of pleasure where I lie to myself and agree that someone probably puts you first when they don't. Maybe that is happiness. Maybe happiness is probably lying to yourself. It's probably being content with discontentment. Perhaps that is the delusion of life. Perhaps that is the solution to life. Wine?,' she asked me and pulled out a bottle of wine from the shelf. I looked at the clock. It was 8 o'clock in the morning. She filled up both glasses and handed me one.

'Perhaps that's the answer, to lie to yourself and to stop pretending you love yourself as much as you wished other people loved you because truth of the matter is you probably don't.' she headed to the bathroom. I followed her in mild curiosity. She placed the glass on the side counter, took out her toothbrush. 'And maybe we should try and love ourselves. But what is love anyway?' she asked then went ahead to brush her teeth.

My gaze the entire time on the bottle of wine, almost empty.