“To love, as an essence one might state can be shared, it remains not mutual for investment’s sake. We give, though with this quantity of ourselves we hand over, insanity creeps into that one individual who gave too much of themselves. Love, not an emotion, presents its essence as our own perspective. To investment, sharing ourselves will risk a loss of ourselves.”
– Modern Romanticism
A perspective remains a place, individualized. It remains a realm we cannot understand, to another’s own, in completion. Absolute understanding of another’s perspective remains impossible. To how much we have understood, out of an estimated percentage, remains impossible. Have we comprehended another to 20% or 50%? We’ll not know. Much remains hidden, within another, while that other person refuses to invest some piece of information that becomes a gamble. For in investment, a risk places itself as a coin on a table, turned either on heads or tails to be what might be lost or what might be retained.
A person loves, because they can. One person risks themselves in love, because it can be done. Same as a person who teeters on edges of cliffs, enveloping their life in danger. A risk happens, because it does. Life does not grow, without loss. Though, what cannot be lost, in absolution, are what we are, when we do not invest enough to keep losing. An addiction, as this, remains no different than any other, when we are high on both pain and pleasure, unable to differentiate either side. Though, if we were to lose ourselves in another, through love, we’ll stray from what we know of ourselves. If love brings a pairing into insanity, it had been because of loss. It had been because of what love stays as, as a perspective to an individual that comes often attempted to be shared. At that share, such investment can become a loss, causing us to lose ourselves. If love cannot be totally shared of itself, as a perspective, such means that a person cannot be able to share enough of themselves to lose themselves, entirely. Hope remains for that person, in their loss, to find themselves, again.
Not being an emotion keeps love everywhere else, except for “in the moment”. Emotions, however, are felt “in the moment”. Love identifies to be those memories that keep a person held back in their loss, while also being that person’s future hopes of what might continue to be lived. A life, lived, with knowledge of oneself that makes love a place of one’s human perspective. One’s angle, unable to be shared for forced understanding without rise of human conflict. For human conflict always becomes bred upon enforcing understanding to a perspective, as such remains an impossibility. Losing ourselves in another will force aside our perspective, that upon this attempt to persuade another to understand, will cause this desperate person to misunderstand themselves.
We are deemed as heartless when we attempt to comprehend another, without patience for that moment when emotions are decided upon to be shared. Emotions can be shared, though love cannot when its gift remains an investment that, when considered to be too much, bring that sharer closer to insanity. Insanity results in those who gave enough of themselves to forget themselves. Remembering a loss will be no different than a person attempting to recall what they forgot. For they cannot, if that other person has become their identity.
Modern Romanticism 