Realization about mother

The way my mother looks at me, at times, in ways which make me feel uncomfortable and lead XXXXXX to say that it is possible to "love too much," is the same way I looked at XXXXXX on my second visit to XXXXXX. I just sat there, feeling royally content to be in the midst of such a person as her, who I could glorify in my mind and then exaggerate our connection. It is the same way I've always been tempted to look at an object of affection.

The insidious portion of a gaze arises from its idleness. Love is an interaction; love is playfulness; love is a two-way street -- it IS the street, not the destinations on either end of it. It is un-love-like to peer over the street to ogle at the object of desire, no matter how wonderfully carven our mental images of that beautiful figure are. When I am with XXXXXX, what must overcome the moment is … the moment itself. The feeling must be mutual, it must be raw, and it must be brutally self-evident. Brutal because nothing less than over-the-top self-evidence can suffice.

Behind the gaze -- what lies behind the gaze? A will to power?

Observations:

a - my mother told me she would sell the house for me (can I buy your love?). I think that she holds physical gifts in high regard, believing that they have the power to bind people together or show sincerity. I do not give a damn about physical gifts.

b - my mother has said numerous times how she admires me and looks up to me. It feels empty when she talks like this, because the unspoken realm reeks of 'I am less than you'. Who among us really wants compliments from people who are not qualified to comment?

c - my mother refrains from talking about issues that matter to her for fear that I will question them. At Christmas she told the whole family about how I am always causing her to question what she believes. That she's kind of scared of opening her mouth because I will cause her to have to think twice about what she believes.

d - my mother, within the week, made me feel exceedingly uncomfortable by hovering her head about two inches from mine while saying good night, as if waiting for something. Fucking uncomfortable. Power.

e - my mother asks me INCESSANTLY if I love her. As if she is just waiting for me to say no. It is probably every day, or every two days. It pisses me off. The last time I said that I loved her she said 'Thank You'. What the fuck does that mean, eh? That's what I said to XXXXXX after that night, and afterwards I realized what a fool I was, a tool, for saying it. How can you thank someone for saying "I love you"? It seems like a desperately wrong thing to say.