Love, I learned as a child, was a rare honor one should not refuse. It meant material support and sometimes caring and even joy, but the main reason one should not refuse it was that people who loved were in pain. If someone loved you, which would be rare in my case since I was not lovable, you must accept them to alleviate their pain. There was food and shelter in it for you as well, but most primordially you owed it to them to let them hurt you.
The people I loved, on the other hand, were not in as much pain as that and they only scared us, they did not actually hurt us. And I loved the cat who was not part of this game, and school, where this game was not played.
(People who read these posts should not be too alarmed. I do not have an analyst who is really an analyst so I speak to the blog. I also wonder about using the paragraphs above in some kind of literary text.)