When I love, I love with fierce intensity. But if that love ends for any reason, even if every person on earth were to vanish and only that one person remained alive, I would not choose them. Once I have declared love dead, I cannot resurrect it.
Being genuinely, unrequited in love with someone authentic is far better than being the girlfriend or wife of someone fake. At least my heart stays alive that way. Most people I've encountered in this life have a cheap mentality, but you—you are entirely different. No one, however hard they try, could ever be like you.
Those who are our helping hands face humiliation at every turn in their lives. When they sit on someone's expensive sofa, they feel insulted. Even the leftover food from the house falls to their lot. I've seen all this with my own eyes, grown up watching so much negativity from childhood.
It's fortunate my ex and I never married. He understood nothing without status. He was always boasting that he came from a very respectable family, that talking or mingling with just anyone was beneath him. There's nothing to learn from someone like that—just money. Despite being very wealthy, he was petty as a person. Far better to be a poor man's wife if he has nobility of spirit than to keep house for a rich man with a small mind.
Is there more joy in receiving love or giving it? Tell me. I think there's more joy in giving. I wish I could love you so much that I forget myself entirely. I have no expectations from you. I love you because loving you keeps my soul at peace. Where expectations come in when everything is already gained, I cannot fathom. People love to keep their souls content. Where then would expectations live?
Think about it—parents who raise their children with love: they gain more from it than the child does. The immense peace that comes from caressing and loving a child arrives for the parents immediately and directly. Their gain here is instant and tangible. Why then expect gain in the future? If parents felt no peace in loving, would they love their children? Rather, it is the child's reception of that love that is more selfless. My favorite writer, Kahlil Gibran, comes to mind with that extraordinary pronouncement:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
Anyway, introverts like me cannot easily blend with everyone. I cannot easily claim people as my own, yet here I am writing so much to you. Introverts shouldn't be capable of writing like this to the person they love! But know this one thing—introverts like me, whatever we can or cannot do, we can never be fake.
I don't need anyone to make me feel special. If anything, feeling a little bored would suit me fine; then I wouldn't have to waste time with some boy. Wasting time with someone you don't like is a tiresome ordeal. Far better to spend quality time with someone you truly love than to pass the time with just anyone.
What enchantment have I fallen under! When I write to you...
I long to keep writing, nothing but writing… I long to write through the entire night… I had never known this feeling before. Human life is so mysterious. The one my heart desires—I can abandon a hundred pressing matters and run to a single call from them; yet the one my heart does not desire—even if they cling to my feet, they cannot hold me by any means. And yet, see how it works: the one whose call I wait for with restless yearning never calls me, not even by mistake; while the one who waits with restless yearning for my response—I do not answer their hundred calls, not even by mistake.