His Tiredness Hurt So Much It Kept

I Voluntarily Inflicted A Certain Level Of Insanity On Myself.

He Had A Happy Canine Way Of Seeking Approval Without Seeming Insecure.

The Pain Was Quite Extraordinary. And Yet Also Weirdly Welcome And Restorative, Bringing Him News Of His Aliveness And His Caughtness In A Story Larger Than Himself.

Here Was A Torture That Greek Inventors Of The Feast And The Stone Had Omitted From Their Hades: The Blanket Of Self-deception. A Lovely Warm Blanket As Far As It Covered The Soul In Torment, But It Never Quite Covered Everything.

Love Is About Bottomless Empathy, Born Out Of The Heart’s Revelation That Another Person Is Every Bit As Real As You Are. And This Is Why Love, As I Understand It, Is Always Specific. Trying To Love All Of Humanity May Be A Worthy Endeavor, But, In A Funny Way, It Keeps The Focus On The Self, On The Self’s Own Moral Or Spiritual Well-being. Whereas, To Love A Specific Person, And To Identify With His Or Her Struggles And Joys As If They Were Your Own, You Have To Surrender Some Of Your Self.