A Question of Worth

The greatest happiness in life is the conviction that we are loved - loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves. - Victor Hugo

Sometimes the realization that one is being loved entirely for who one is, is too overwhelming to be exacted with an appropriate response. Like in the movie, In Her Shoes, Rose behaved wildly upon the slap of revelation that she was really about to marry - and that someone is really interested in being her husband for the rest of her life - "How could anyone want me? I'm disgusting!" I guess everybody at one point of their relationship would begin to ask themself what makes them worthy of being loved? Worthiness, a concept planted in grounds of human subjectivity - that one may feel that perhaps the other party has not yet swallowed up one's true identity in order to still be so kind as to exhibit good favor towards them.

One friend of mine had confided in me of his troubles. He worries how his friends manage to tolerate him despite his behaviors and paranoia. Although this episode had occured months ago and I've already created a seemingly convincing explanation for the said problem, I found it hard to articulate my epiphany to him for reasons I cannot verbalize.

Although I also do feel my unworthiness of being called a good friend or a responsible sibling or a heartfelt girlfriend, it does sometimes make one feel good. I guess everybody does feel unworthy, and those who don't are seriously in big trouble. The sense of self-unworthiness could be equated perhaps with humility, and in order to make oneself worthy, one would have to strive more to meet particular standards and thus improving oneself in the process. To meet the idea of being completely worthy is the exact moment that one is truly unworthy.