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on a slight melancholic note,

- so as to be reminded of what happiness is

I notice how easy it is to be self-destructive.
Or
Self-boastful

We either have too little or too much.
We neither have this nor that.

We, <--- it's a melancholic reality that 'We' are not alone.

I once imagined that I was alone - and that the world revolved around me, perpetually.

The theses were:
1. All sequence of events, chance or not, happen in relation to me.
2. There is a causal chain to the events and that chain is tied to me.
3. All persons and objects, those I see and experience directly, are real.
4. All persons and objects, those I do not see and experience directly, are indirectly related to me.

Me.
I cannot escape. Loneliness is such that you heighten the sense of self and lose all the others, even if you gain some form of understanding to the series of events happening to you.

I do this, or I do that.
I did this, nor I did that.

It is a very tiring concept. I was perpetually relating to something.

I was only 13 years old. And had no concept of love.

---

More than twice my age, I have come to a new conclusion.

The person who is I, must give oneself up, perpetually.
It is like a strange allusion to a future, even if 'I' escapes you in the moment of thought.
I, means to think. And to think is to begin the perpetual reconstitution of a unified self. -- you will never be yourself.

I think I am shit today. I think I am excellent today.

There is a calmer way to get out of the subjective.
Truth is not subjectivity. (I'm sorry, Kierkegaard...)
Truth occurs in the moment of its abandonment.

To abandon 'I' and to return and grasp infinity in its finitude
- 'We' must emerge.

it is a positive art as much as a negative violence.
'I' disappears, and 'We' appears, perpetually.

And Paul calls this 'Love'.

Which is, really, also another form of self-violence. Then why is it calmer?

The very fact (and that is its melancholic reality) is that it demands patience.
Patience is at the heart of love.
And 'we' as a body, are clasped in a single mobile body, changing and metamorphosing (careful that we do not suffer the same fate as K.'s final predicament of having a self-centred sister).

No person can go through a love/hate relationship without some form of change.

The thrust of this change must be better off as patient love.

If Truth is love, it is because love cannot reveal itself by appearance and truth is not made known explicitly. This truth consists of quiet and pain-staking changes and adjustments that make us less and more of ourselves.

And if possible, I ask you to patiently read these words with a pinch of salt.
You are not reading a truth.

A love relationship is sacred and divine precisely because it requires sacrifices and a sum total of two or more persons.

We cannot be oneself in a relation that consists of us.

So I think the popular phrase - accept the person for who he or she is - is misleading and extremely self-centred.

(to be born again.)

That is the reality, and a melancholic one, because death and birth are intertwined.
The birth of 'We', is the death of 'I'.
The death of 'We', is the birth of a new 'I'.

And so, as your parents grow old and approach death with each passing night - think again of your birth.

And so, as your lover touches you and whispers a secret to you - think again of your birth and your personal death.

You cannot be alone. Love demands your full attention and surrender.

And this demands you to not accept my words, dear Reader, but to experience love yourself - with another - and yourselves.

Live love; not read Love.