Philosophy – “Why Criticism is not the same as Hatred” – 2/17/2021

“Unlike hatred, criticism is its opposite. Criticism constructs. It lifts, just the same as love.”

– Modern Romanticism

To reject criticism is to reject the friend. It is to reject the one who doesn’t find you perfect. Is not the essence of friendships to show vulnerability around the other? Is this not the same as trusting who you claim to be your friend?

It is fear that leads to division, not hatred. Hatred only comes out of the need to fill a void, where once was love.

As it is fear that leads to division, then we should comprehend that every emotion, so fleeting to ourselves, reveals our imperfection and insecurities enough to require friendship. As in, why do we yearn for ourselves to be divided, ever-more? “Division” is an open wound, a parting between people, so to speak. Our divisions are the wounds between us. Division is the gap between people. We bleed, only because we have no one to cry with.

Criticism will lift, because it knows a person’s flaws. Hatred, however, will seek to destroy. Genuine hate is never wide-spread. It is never so broad, as fear. Though, it could be appropriate to mention that should a person be able to love all others, then they can also fear for every one of those people. The division, through fear, would then come when people do not wish to become involved. Thus, there is the ignorance for which is a relation to fear.

It is a confusion, when people tend to misunderstand how they have become divided. It was never out of hate, as it was always due to fear. People are ignorant of those they do not know, due to them being fearful of truth.

If we ever hate, then we must have once known how to love. That is factual. It cannot be hatred that divides, because genuine hate is always born out of an understanding to someone. It was the betrayal that caused the part between two persons, though hatred bred itself out of knowledge for what a person never knew of who they once trusted and loved. That is, some side of the betrayer was revealed, and thus, hatred was born, filling the void where once was sheer love.

It is to criticism that knows weakness, though seeks to repair it. It is criticism, that between soulful friends, know each other’s strengths and weaknesses. The critical friend will simply point out those flaws, to next say to the troubled one that their strength is enough to mend them. This is to say that a critical friend will not do the work for their troubled companion, though will simply show them the path.

Philosophy – “No Bravery in Feeling Weak” – 12/14/2020

“Turn to that person who is undergoing sobbing, to the person who holds the noose about their neck. You are their strength, their pillar to lean on, as it cannot be them. In your mind, it should not be the case that they’d suffer, alone.”

– Modern Romanticism

There is no beauty in development. Of people’s tears, to say that it requires strength to weep, are words from those who share the same weakness. It is the weakness of neglect.

Those who weep, feel weak. Those who encourage another to cry, may as well be those who engaged the pain. How is it to the blindness of a person, who encourages another to weep, in pertaining their push to that, as strength or a show of it? It is not. Those who weep, always cry, feel weak, for that is what we must perceive of them.

It heads to the next level. We say that a person who attempts suicide, was brave. How much can we save, versus how much we can encourage? Again, those who believe suicide attempts were acts of bravery, may as well be direct encouragements for one to end their own life.

How many save lives, within their own vocation? Their profession works in the manner of nobility. Even more, how many have the heart to do it, independently of material gain? How many seek to repair, rather than to encourage another to crumble? How many step forward to become the friend of a person, instead of saying they must weep without one? Is it to a person’s depression that makes them suffer, or is it in what they lack or what was lost?

Does a person who is awarded a medal to their nobility, for their courage in saving another’s life, pertain as well to a person who ended their own life that no one saved?

Love sees no history that isn’t worth forgiving, to say that it has been forgotten, in the perception that a future can be better off without burden.

Excerpt – Chapter I – “To Not Sink a Friend” – Romance – 6/11/2020

It is that our heroism ignites our own flag stabbed in the ground’s hole, that we know how love also feels. Oh, the weakness, the sicknesses that are raised so much like the flag, that it never stands evenly. It motions with the winds that run like treading fear through a less-than-stable mind.

Love. That is our emotion of not an emotion. It is not an emotion, when such perfection is not comprehended by our flawed selves. We make the error in calling love an emotion, and proves ourselves as an error. So perfect, is love, and never a slight hint of understanding of it by any scientific method. It is weakness that we feel, so often like the heroism.

We, the lovers, are so weak to see who loves us.

We, the lovers, are still so strong to see who we love, when we find their danger is something to ignite them, as the flag. Their danger, their fire, their fear, compels our action to protect. It is not ever in that moment, that we feel weak.

For love does not leave a tear to drop from an eye, without its catching before it reaches the Earth. It would only grow another standing statue, another beloved, who faces her hands in the infinite sorrows.

Our rain, is the same as our pain, the listless fears that spiral out of our eyes in the form of raindrops. Our weakness, is our want to be loved. Our strength, is our want to love.

Present strength, as one would love. Present weakness, as one would be loved.

Poem – “Stronger for my Friend” – Love – 5/12/2020

I swear

To hold the world up.

Each tragedy shall fall at my command,

Each bitter tear shall drop to never again be seen,

Each angle shall turn into a beautiful curve

Of your now broken flesh.

I want to hold the mirror to your face

For us both

To notice a smile

That does not crack,

Does not break

Neither against the wind,

Nor those quivering hands

That would rub the eyes to burns of friction.

I kiss the cheek,

Not the lips.

I hold a new memory

Of something better

Than the music of yesteryear

Where the strings of both harps and violas

Were snapped.

I give you roses with the hues of the sun,

Hoping such warmth will better you

For the future that is won.

I will no longer weep

For what could not be,

Because, your face will be the reminder

Of the future, clearly seen.