I was floored. It was the worst news I’d ever heard: I was going to have to charm my mother. I was going to have to deserve her love, and all other loves.
It wasn’t enough to appear and demand to be loved, then. I wasn’t essentially divine, then. The Pharonic doses of love that I demanded were not legitimate, then. That avalanche of thens bowled me over.
Charming my mother: it wouldn’t be easy. How was I to go about it? No idea.
More seriously: I was going to have to deserve love. I was like the British royal family learning that they were going to have to pay taxes: what? Wasn’t everything my due?
Furthermore I felt that I would need too much love: the smallest portion wasn’t going to be enough. I was going to have to deserve enormous helpings of love. In short, I was going to have to take a hell of a lot of trouble.
I had my work cut out for me. And all of a sudden I knew one thing that proved to be true, that would prove to be truer and truer: I was going to have to make an effort in life.
The very idea exhausted me.