cathartic. thank you.
You don’t quite realise just how integral relationships are in the construction of the ‘self’ until you shed them one by one, while observing your best friends pick them up one by one, cradling them in the shallow embrace of their hearts.
They say that love is blind. That isn’t as true as if we were to postulate that it isn’t love, but people, that blind themselves when they’re in love. There’s a difference, you see — love doesn’t and shouldn’t have to be a visual handicap (a sort-of distortion of the reality of the person you so-called love); Love means being able to see him for all his flaws, for all his consternations and errors and fault lines, but being able to appreciate that it is these internal cracks and bruises in the marble veneer that so wholly constitute this person — Turning him into a reflection of the…
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