Love
Everybody claims to have found it, and nobody can ever show anything for it.
Nobody has any substantive evidence, nor any qualitative evidence for that case.
Limerence, the unrequited are aware of the feeling of repudiation of life.
Because love, once inhaled, relies on the permission of another to exhale and feel relief.
The ambiguity of love, the caliginous fog of the soul, virulently suppressing any capricious openness in fear of repudiation.
The sentimental feelings consume a person, eating away at them bit by bit... For reconstruction to take place, it requires that another accepts And truly cherishes the love you have shown them. For nothing is worse than deceit in love, everything must be open or everything is closed.
And today, people have no idea... Everybody lies, everybody is deceitful and untrustworthy, I tell you, there is not one good and honest man besides myself.
None comparable to my magnificence.
They believe that by suppressing their true feelings, by being quintessential in the expression of their love, they have a higher chance of becoming a loved person... But even if they do become "Loved", they are not loved for who they really are.
And therefore it is not true love. Deceit in love is internecine.
The ramifications of mendaciousness, of both sides, are just that: Divided sides, they have not become one flesh... True love makes two people one.
The evocativeness of limerence is made to deteriorate, only in the conditions of harmonic love. It's a bestial and mundane guidance to truth, to life.
The poignancy of impregnable translucency is like a facet, as is all will and wish.
People need cartharsis, if people ventured into the middle of nowhere and screamed their repressed emotions out... We would live in a better society, but people repress their emotions... People are quintessential and are consumed by conceit and fear of what others may think.
I have superior insight into events, I am omnipotent in this sense... People should Hearken unto and take to heart everything I say.
Love is soul, and soul is like light... Without windows, what light doth a man see?
The eyes are love, and the eyes are the window of the soul- Taking in and putting out. Hence why love is considered to be diaphanous, because light is what. Ames men aware. In this way, Obscurantism has an enhanced effect, and suppressing love only makes the world a darker place.
Openness can too be Inauspicious, but not in the same way that repression of openness can be. A Litany of confession of love is mere if the words are many but the meaning few, that is, a tacitly understood expression of oneself.
To make reification of love into a ring is folly, it is an evil and malicious thing to do and it desecrates love into being absolutely worthless. Love is immaterial, it for this reason that we aught to cherish it... We aught not to capitalise off love, for love is outside the bounds of commodification- As a law. And if it is commodified, then it no longer exists.