The Plaster of Thought-walls: 131

Reflection: Nine Hundred Eleven

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One. Do you know, just as it's true that I no longer love you, it's equally bitter reality that I cherish you like a shard of frozen ice.
I could have filled stack after stack of pages with pen and paper, if only you'd given me a little time!
I could have stayed beautifully by your side for a long while, loving you selflessly even without receiving your love in return, if only you'd understood me a little!
Beloved, nothing stays well when neglected. Not people, not unused things lying around the house.
You didn't need to give me much—just a little time now and then would have made me immensely happy.
I don't like expensive gifts; time from you would have been far more precious to me.
Perhaps we'll never speak again. When you realize what I was in your life, I pray you won't have to come to me, not even by mistake.
Two. Mother was telling me about you, asking me to take some Shab-e-Barat halwa to your office. She kept insisting. Well, tell me—what should I say to Mother? That we quarreled? That we're not speaking... all that? That you simply don't like me... which is it?
Listen, quarrels happen in inboxes, behind closed doors, but there's mud-slinging involved. But do you know when that doesn't happen? When you see that someone likes you, but they also keep in mind that your dignity shouldn't be tarnished before others in any way. That's what real love is—one person's love for another.
My mother has done nothing wrong. The problem is only with me, isn't it? Well, I'm far away—don't worry about it.
We children have no anger, complaints, or resentment toward our elders; I hope there's none with my mother either.
She told me, "The boy is here this Shab-e-Barat, who knows if we'll live to see next year! Then I won't be able to cook halwa and feed him. And he stays so busy, he doesn't even have time to come home."
She's asking me to take it to your office.
Now tell me, what should I do? Should I send someone tomorrow? Or should I bring it myself?
Keep your anger and hatred toward me forever, but don't keep it toward my mother. She'll be deeply hurt.
As usual, I didn't get your reply. I had wanted to know from you. Because my mother had said to take food this time.
What should I make of your silence? That you're not interested? Okay, fine!
I've humbled myself before you many times, this time I spoke of my mother. You treated her the same way you treat me!
By staying silent, you want no more contact, don't you? Fine, then let it be so! I won't stay in touch with someone who belittles even my mother!
Be well. Stay silent forever. No problem. My heart isn't so small, which is why I perhaps kept reaching out to talk again and again. But this time I spoke of my mother, and I'm shocked by your behavior!
If you can, be the reason for someone's smile. Not just for a few days, but be the reason for lasting joy.
I've been diminished before my mother. Yet for you, I've quarreled with so many people in my life and ruined those relationships.
Give shelter to people, give refuge, give everything — I'm nobody to speak about that. But you couldn't even fulfill one small request of mine!
Three. Listen, seeing yourself as so terribly precious while watching me being neglected day after day — doesn't it frighten you even a little? What if someday your beloved treated you the way you're treating me...
Once I used to fear losing you; now I'm no longer afraid. What does it matter if someone who doesn't know how to value my feelings is lost or not lost!
You never needed to make me love you. Just as you avoid me even when you're near, I'll keep this in mind.
Don't even mistakenly think that I still love you today. I truly don't love you anymore. Why, do you know? The punishment you've given me by coming close — I don't deserve this at all.
I'm a girl who knows how to love, who needs no one's love, but what stubborn game you're trying to win against me, God alone knows.
You needn't have been so harsh. Be well.
Four. I wrote many things and left them unsent. Actually, I shouldn't write at all. Who should write, do you know? Those who've received some moments, who've gotten phone calls at least once a month, who've had meetings or at least gotten one morning or evening.
Where there's nothing at all, what would I write about — have you ever thought? Where you and I don't even talk, where you tell me nothing, what would I write about us — have you considered?
Where you forget to include me in anything at all, there's nothing worth writing unnecessarily. Better to write all my thoughts on some other page.
There must be some reason. I wrote all this time, and behind that writing was a reason — I loved you selflessly. Yes, for this one reason alone I used to write. Now there's no need for all this anymore.
Who will write now, do you know? That beauty you tell me about, or the girl who says, "I've met him so many times"... they'll be here from now on. I'm not making room for anyone; actually, you don't need my love. Stay with those you find pleasing. This much was our acquaintance, this much our conversation.
Do you know one thing — there's a reason behind anything, but there was no reason behind my love. You didn't see me with seeing eyes, because you were blind when it came to me, your seeing eyes were closed to me. Yet I went on loving every day, inquiring after you, and writing letters.
Now someone else will write, hmm? They'll love selflessly too!
Thought: Nine Hundred Twelve

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One. You might think to yourself, this girl loves me while keeping all the world's complaints in her heart.
Look, whatever complaints there were or are, they're not greater than love.

Again, we do have small expectations from the person we love — nothing impossible, something the person could easily give if they wanted.
Yes, you might say next that you don't love me, so why should you give it?! That's also right, of course. Truly, why should you!
You know what? There are certain 'whys' in this world that have no answers. Why you don't like me — that's one 'why' with an answer. But why I used to love you... why I loved you — this 'why' has no answer at all.
Listen, what you said the day before yesterday... perhaps you were hinting at me, suggesting that a person who doesn't know how to appreciate beauty and can't call good things good is not really good themselves. And then you added with contempt that I'm the only good person around here!
These two statements have hurt me deeply, deeply, deeply. You truly don't know what I'm like! How well do you even know me! Beauty lies within, not without. I call only that person ugly whose interior is ugly.
Anyway, I've made a decision that will please you. I will withdraw far from your life, from your inbox. Keep only those beautiful people near you now, the ones whose appearance you prefer.
I wasn't hurt when you called me ugly, but your saying that girl is good while I'm bad — that has made me think!
I desperately asked you for time, but you didn't give it. Yet when I said I'd send that girl to you, you immediately said, "Send her." So you have time for her, but not for me.
Fine, no problem. Take care. I leave behind just one small complaint: you could have given me some time!
Two. I can tell you many things, write many things to you, even show you my anger.

The only thing I cannot say or make you understand is just how much I love you...
I know you don't like me, so you try to keep your distance! It's perfectly normal that someone doesn't love — one can accept that. I do accept it; but when someone can't even tolerate me, that hurts a little to accept!
I cannot make you understand how I feel. This isn't emotion, it's love...
Don't think cheaply of a person who, setting aside all ego, everything else, loves only you with the madness of devotion. Someone who's cheap behaves this way with everyone; but I don't have time for everyone. The thought that you truly have no time for me — even thinking this causes terrible pain!
See, tears are falling from my eyes... If you ever can, please forgive all my offenses and give me a little time.
No, don't — don't give me time... I spoke wrongly.
Something given after being asked for many times has no value. Value lies in what is received without asking.
I don't think I've committed any offense, but if you feel that way, then I have nothing to do but apologize.
On life's path, I walk carefully so as not to harm others. Beauty isn't in my face; whatever beauty exists lies in my heart.

Give my share of time to someone else. I'm no beggar to hold out my hand! There's some difference between making requests to one's beloved and begging from someone!
Anyway, I'm troubling you by constantly asking for time. Sorry for that. Actually, one never has to ask for anything from one's own people — they give it on their own.
A mistake has been made. It won't take time. Give my share to someone else.

When you show me such busyness... just like that, my love falls asleep!
My love for you cannot sleep for long, it suffers only from insomnia — that's why I'm in such pain!
When you repeatedly asked why I come to you alone, I said each time... because I love you. Each time I felt that you needed me!
Now when I want you so desperately, you deprive me of seeing your beautiful face!
When I thought that even if I couldn't have you for very long, having you for a little while would keep me happy for many days — just then you explained so many things to me!
Perhaps one day you'll come back to me! If you ask then whether I love you madly or not, I'll answer: I was indeed mad before, but now I've recovered.
It doesn't take long for a madman to become sane. Will you be able then... to tolerate that sanity of mine?
Thought: Nine Hundred Thirteen

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One. Well, how does one stop remembering someone?
You avoid me as if I'm your closest enemy!
You know, I quite like boys who are terribly angry!
Deliberately, I pick a fight over nothing and make someone like that furious.

Then I dip my lips in ink and write some poem.

Let it be whatever it may!
Starting fights, I bind questions in sonnets upon sonnets in octaves!

In tenderness, affection and love, I give solutions in the sestet!

Let new songs be composed for him every single day.
Let there be

thousands and hundreds of hurt feelings between us!

Coming close in love

we'll become one soul, one single life!
Two. I had wanted that even if you couldn't love me, you would at least understand me a little.

Even if you couldn't meet me frequently, you would meet me at least twice a month.

I had wanted that even if everyone misunderstood, you at least would never misunderstand me.

I had wanted you to catch my mistakes and correct me.

I had wanted to write many beautiful pieces together with you.

I had wanted to cook your favorite dishes with my own hands and feed you.

I had wanted just a little time from you, which you could have given if you wished.

I had wanted you to reveal yourself to me exactly as you are,

and keep all your thoughts and sorrows with me.

I had wanted you to give me a shirt you had worn.

I had wanted to spend a long time with you.

I had wanted there to be some happy memories between us.

Whether we had anything else between us or not, at least in times of sorrow we should be able to stand by each other.
Well, tell me, are my desires too precious? Don't you have the ability to fulfill even one of these?

Give this answer to yourself, beloved.
Three. I am a woman, so perhaps I can love very beautifully.
I can gather the strength to survive through hundreds of wounds, pain, humiliation, and neglect. I have the courage to do any work equal to a man.
I can be the safest refuge and shoulder of dependability for aging parents in their final years.
Even while managing everything in the household single-handedly, I can do any work in service of society.
A woman possesses the desire and ability to do anything good for her child, for her household, for her parents, for her beloved, for her siblings, for her friends.
If someone loves them even a little, they can love back many times over in return. And with a smile, they can accomplish so many things.
So there is just one wish: may the respect for them not be for just one day. May respect and love for women flow from the heart every single day.
Four. I truly wouldn't have sent you a message, since you have no time to read my messages and no desire to meet with me either!
Anyway, this morning I dreamed that you had come home. You came and sat on my bed. You looked deeply troubled. No matter how many times I asked, what's wrong with you?
Tell me. I won't tell anyone... And you said, leave it, forget about it. When you told me to forget it, my heart felt so strange! Whether or not I can do anything else, at least I can digest words and keep them safe. Whether or not I can cheer someone up when their heart is heavy, at least I can stay with them during that time of sadness.
Ever since I had that dream, tears have been falling from my eyes.
I exist nowhere in your life! You don't even consider me worthy of talking to or trusting with words to keep safe. I'm ugly to look at, so perhaps that's why this happens.
Well, I have such a fierce desire to see you! I've never said such things before.
Now I'm saying it shamelessly. Giving time to others is your choice. Just once, couldn't you fulfill this small wish of mine?
If even God came down and told me you have no time, I would still find it hard to accept. Time can be made if there's willingness in the heart.
This girl loves you very much. Give her something—anything—to live on for the rest of her life. Time, at least, you could give...
Five. You often tell me that I market my sorrows to you. You know what the real truth is? I don't confide in anyone else but you. Even if you call it marketing, you're still right! But I don't tell my troubles to others. I don't reveal myself to them either.
Here I am, terribly ill, seeing doctors, getting checkups—all by myself; and taking care of mother too. When I fall sick, I have no child to care for me, no husband either; and mother... she's sick herself!
When I feel absolutely, utterly, utterly terrible, I can't even tell anyone. I have no one, and I keep no one close either.
This time the doctor said, I think you don't take care of yourself. Child, take care of yourself, your illness has gotten much worse... After hearing these words, I felt that someone finally understood the truth!
Now I feel tenderness for myself.
I have too many expectations of you, don't I? That's what you think, isn't it? Don't think that. I hold no hopes from anyone. What I have with you are only entreaties—the kind that cannot be made to any other man in the world. Oh yes, and I have no time to look toward anyone else anyway.
To me, you mean something vast. You're like the entire world! Yet to you I am nothing!
Even someone accustomed to walking alone grows breathless once or twice a year. Then they think, it would be good if someone were beside me. I think the same happens with me.
I show you what I am. Whatever comes to my lips I say directly—I have nothing to store up in my heart. Rather, it brings me more peace to deposit it all with you.
Thought: Nine Hundred and Fourteen

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One. If you say that one cannot make requests of you, even then I would say that all my requests can only be made to you. Because everything I have passes through you.
Let me tell you a few more things, since you've come close—that's why I'm saying this. After you see this message, I'll delete it.
I deposit all of myself with you. Perhaps because you seem safe to me. Even if you tell someone my words someday, there would still be nothing I could do about it. I believe everything can be left in your keeping. If I ever have a child, perhaps then I'll deposit everything with them instead.
I'll tell my child about you too. The one I think about so much—surely at some point I must speak of them to my child.
You don't need to do anything for me. I'm not asking for it either. I simply tell you things, and they remain with you as letters, but I myself don't remain. Though I have no regrets about that either!
You don't like listening to my chatter, I know...I understand. But couldn't you think of it this way—that somewhere in the world, a person is living beautifully because of you, someone stays at peace loving you, someone is well by depositing everything with you? Maybe you don't have to do anything for me, but someone is well because of you—have you ever thought of it like that?
I often don't tell my mother many things either. I don't tell her, thinking she might worry and fall more ill. I tell you instead.
Anyway, forget my sad stories. There's no real suffering anyway; I'm fine. I just deposit some words. You probably have many people, while I have only you...until now. Because I have no one except you, you're treating me this way; if I ever have someone of my own, then you'll see—you'll feel bad.
Well, good thing—none of the words above are complaints, love, affection, or anything like that. I simply keep everything of mine with you, that's why I said it.
What I am to myself, I am the same to you. I'm telling the truth—I never approach you with any schemes in mind. Whatever comes to mind, I say it without hesitation!
Keep one more thing in mind. I truly have no schemes inside me, but I do have anger. Perhaps many people don't like this anger!
Two. If I move away to give you peace, what will you give me in return—have you thought about that? Let there be some exchange between you and me this time.
The one you miss and call every day—surely you know that the good she loves, she loves it precisely because it gets your attention?
And me? Think once, please, about how I came to love so intensely?
The one you're restless to meet—she comes to meet you precisely because she sees your restlessness.
And me? All this time I waited to see you, even without getting to see you! Will you think about this once too...hm?
The one you love—receiving your love, she loves you back, which gives you immense peace.
And me? Without receiving your love, bearing neglect and bad treatment, and still having loved well even without meeting—what name will you give to that? Have you ever thought about it?
Alright, come on, let's leave all these words behind.
I had wished to become your mirror and your shadow, a mirror in which you could see yourself and a shadow that would never abandon you! You wouldn't even let this small wish of mine come true...!
Three. After passing my intermediate exams, when I expressed my desire to study medicine, father said, "If you become a doctor, you'll have to do night duties, dear. Girls from aristocratic families like ours can't work outside the home at all hours of the night...!"
Well, I gave up the idea of studying medicine.
Some time later, inspired by my friend's elder sister, I decided I would study law. Just as I was about to pursue the idea of becoming a lawyer, my youngest uncle visited our house. In the evening, holding tea in one hand and gesticulating with the other, he said, "You see, my dear, only those who have no other prospects end up studying law!"
Little me heard those words and came to my room and sat quietly. I was so upset that I didn't even eat dinner that night, and stayed awake all night.
I spent many days like this, feeling dejected.
Suddenly one morning I received a message from Rini. Apparently, that very day was the last date for admission to the government college near our house.
I left home with great hesitation and confusion. I thought to myself, I'm going to study at a government college!? I mean, me...!?
After a while I convinced myself again: yes, good girls eat at home and study at their local colleges! Can't I do at least this much to preserve the family honor!?
When I finally reached the college, I found that there were no seats available in any department except Physics and Philosophy.
I wasn't going to pursue Physics or Chemistry anymore, brother. Enough was enough. Having no other option, I enrolled in Philosophy.
On my way home, I heard at least three people say, "A government college, and philosophy on top of that! Will these people even study properly!"
That day, the same aunt who had lectured my mother about my studying philosophy—whose own daughter had just gone abroad to do her master's in Philosophy.
When someone who receives money from you knocks you on Messenger just to exchange pleasantries, don't mistakenly assume that they've contacted you for pleasantries.
Yes, they've knocked for money. This is the truth—there's nothing to assume here. Truth never needs to be assumed. Only what might be true or might be false needs to be assumed.
Nobody contacts a debtor to exchange pleasantries; they contact them for the money owed.
Thought: Nine Hundred Fifteen

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One. I don't worry too much about who showed respect and who didn't. I find it difficult to spare enough idle time to waste on the disrespectful.

I only understand this much: whoever doesn't respect me, I don't respect them either, unless I'm absolutely compelled to.
Two. The fewer people someone has to genuinely praise (not flatter), the more they tend to speak by taking digs at others or belittling them.
Three. What's the point of doing something that brings no benefit, but risks harm if done wrong?
Four. When someone asks suddenly, you can't tell them what's inside you. Even after living with each other day and night, people can't share their most intimate sorrows with the person beside them. It takes nothing to share happiness, but to share sorrow requires at least some connection between two souls.
Five. Never try to own everything. I don't. This brings me two benefits: time is saved, sorrow is reduced.
Six. You are foolish, which is why you harbor expectations even from someone who is completely indifferent toward you. But when you maintain expectations even from someone who doesn't know you at all—what can one really call you then?
You who come to my wall, my inbox, my phone calls, sitting there with baskets full of expectations—why haven't such adorable souls won the Nobel Prize yet?
Seven. I was feeling low. Before going to sleep at night, I sat with many storybooks. I couldn't decide which one to read. Suddenly my eyes fell upon Humayun Ahmed's book "Putul" (The Doll). Just looking at the cover from outside, it seemed like a children's book. I opened it and saw that it was indeed so. I thought, what's the point of reading children's books now? Let me move on to another book. The next moment I thought, well, let me read a children's book for once!
After reading a few pages, I felt sympathy for the little child named "Putul," and I also felt that reading this book would not, whatever else it might do, improve my mood. But surprisingly, that very book slowly introduced me to life's greatest truth.
Through the eyes of these three small children—Antu, Mariam, and Putul—the writer showed the world's greatest truth, which is "hunger."
Except for hunger, nothing else in this world is real—reading this book, I learned this once again. Our primary need is actually not rice and clothing, but just rice.
Without clothes, a person can survive even naked, but cannot survive without rice.
I will remember this little book. This book looked me straight in the eye and showed me how ungrateful I am! Lost in the crowd of "I don't have this, I don't have that," I forget how much I actually do have!
Thank you, Humayun Ahmed. Thank you for enriching my life and philosophy of life once again.
Eight. With all due respect to your infinite memory, I'm making a request on Women's Day:
Please stop remembering things that never even happened?
Nine. I don't believe in Women's Day because I am human. Let Human Day come instead, and we'll celebrate together—women and men, meaning human to human.
Still, if I'm absolutely compelled to offer Women's Day greetings, then first I'll offer them to women themselves.
Today is the last day for suffering from inferiority complexes about dark skin or small job positions. Who cares what anyone eats! Who cares what anyone wears!
Today is also the last day for comparing your husband with other women's husbands or comparing your career with your female friends' careers.
The era of "My mother-in-law tortured me, so I too will torture my daughter-in-law"—our mothers and mothers-in-law themselves swept that away. From them we learned how one woman can be a shelter for another woman.
Though we ourselves—meaning women—had put clichés like "How else do women get promotions!" into circulation... well, let's forget about that... ha ha ha... now it's time to bid farewell to that too.
We've come to understand that there's no comparison between women and men, women and women, men and men. Comparison exists only between mind and mind.
Ten. I tolerate men, I love women.
Eleven. I'm looking for a boy who is completely broken, who has lost all faith in love, who forgot how to love long ago.
Whose heart is surely good, but who has forgotten to take care of himself. Who is very quick to anger, flies into rage at the slightest provocation and scolds endlessly. Whatever he may look like, it would be enough if he just had a beautiful soul. Even if love seems like a luxury to him, I would have no complaints.
One who is too quick to rebuke, who knows how to punish at every turn, who forgot how to laugh long ago...if I found such a boy, I would love again.
Those who know how to love shouldn't have problems. Let's see what happens!
If I love well, I will love someone just like this.
Loving deeply, I will become utterly destitute, and then I will love him again.
If you give me thorns, I'll give you flowers,

If you wound me, I'll give you love.
Even if you misunderstand, I won't go far away,

Staying close, I'll fulfill

All the longings of the heart.
Thought: Nine Hundred Sixteen

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One. When a person wakes up in the morning with the urge to defecate, he doesn't brush his teeth first and then relieve himself—rather, he brushes after attending to nature's call. Similarly, when both wicked and virtuous people stand before him, a wise person doesn't praise the virtuous before appeasing the wicked. The reason is obvious: he knows that if he doesn't praise the virtuous, the virtuous will do him no harm, but if he doesn't praise the wicked, the wicked might well harm him.
Two. The one for whom you would steal

Will call you a thief,

If that theft disturbs their peace.
You only steal for someone,

Even at the cost of disturbing their peace,

When that theft keeps you at peace.
People commit such theft for their own mental tranquility,

Not for anyone else.
Three. It's hard to find anyone who hasn't read Jasimuddin's 'Kabor' (The Grave). Do you know when he wrote this poem? When he was in college (HSC class). While he was a student at Calcutta University, this poem found its place in the Bengali textbook for matriculation.
To those who exhaust themselves searching for parallels between a writer's work and life, I ask: where did college student Jasimuddin's son, daughter-in-law, and grandson come from?
Four. Shameless opportunists forcibly claim powerful people as their relatives or friends to serve their own interests. In ninety-nine percent of cases, it turns out those powerful people don't even know them.
Five. Is there a mother in this world who would be happy even if her own child died, as long as she could make her stubbornness prevail?
Six. I want my birthday to remain in his memory without any notification or reminder.
May he not forget to send a good morning text when he wakes up each day, or to say good night before going to sleep.
The words of weariness he never tells anyone, the secret sorrows he never shares with anyone by mistake—may he tell me alone about all those pains.
Let him speak of all his unfulfilled yearnings, the anguish of his melancholy.
The person no one has ever seen cry, whose tears he has never shown to anyone till today—let that very person bury his head in my chest and weep inconsolably with complete trust.
Even seeing my eyes heavy with kohl, may he understand that my heart is troubled today.

Even hearing my ringing laughter, may he know that this girl wept bitterly last night.
I want at least one person to exist whose memory holds my birthday without any notification or reminder. One whose memory doesn't even retain this much may love me, perhaps, but doesn't quite cherish me with care. Many know how to love well, but how few know how to cherish that love with care!
Seven. Saving someone's soul is much more important than loving them.
If your way of loving someone hurts them, it's not love, it's just self-indulgence.
The first and last magic-word for life is...

Peace... peace... peace...
Eight. If loving someone every moment is a crime, then I am the greatest criminal in this world... Yes, that's why I never wanted you in my life even by mistake, because if I entered your life, it might bring you unrest!
How

pass the days?

Without you

every day!
Tell me, are you a ghost? You always possess me!
I've come to give you good news this morning. That you always remain well without me, and I too shall remain well without you.
You who never softened toward me even by mistake, not once—for six long years I've loved the wrong person and spoken such things in vain!
Love is never wrong, never; only the person is wrong.
If even once in life you regret your harsh behavior toward me, only then will my soul find peace. Knowing you didn't love me, I loved you still.
Knowing you couldn't bear to see me, I wished you well. What all I've done—only my God knows.
Why do I say all this, I wondered all day yesterday. Truly... where am I! Nowhere. Even if I were to die, you would remain harsh toward me still.
You know? If once in life you love someone intensely, then you'll see—a second time you can't love anyone else at all. Just as you cannot, I cannot either. Even so, if someone loves intensely, we may not love them back but we cannot be so harsh, because among the billions of people in this world, why did this person love me—that's what we think first.
Why I'm writing to you, I don't know. If some days remain in my life, I would ask God to spend those days with you alone.
I feel I've spent a long time with you. No more now. You have won. Congratulations to you. I have lost. Lost very badly. If you ever feel that truly you were harsh toward me, then someday you may come to reach out if you wish.
I haven't kept you on my friend list for these reasons: you cannot bear to see me, you don't want to accept anything I give; all things considered, you simply cannot tolerate me.
But however badly you think of me, my family didn't give me such bad upbringing. Perhaps you have no idea about my family and the women in my family. By loving you, I've become very small in your eyes.
Whatever it is, this is my last letter. If I feel like writing to someone, I'll write to someone else, but if I feel like loving, I cannot love anyone else. My love isn't so cheap that I'll love someone new every few days!
But I won't come to love you anymore. You can be sure of that. If you can remain without me when I don't knock, I can too.
In this midday, tears are falling from my eyes as I write. I'm going...
Thought: Nine hundred seventeen

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One. They all came very close to me together. I looked and saw all their faces were like sorrow. I recognize this kinship with sorrow. How strange this kinship is! This bond doesn't tear easily. All sorrow remains very close to the soul!
Two. Our life is filled with mistakes. Yet we remember nothing of what once pushed us toward misfortune. Again and again, we rush toward error.
Three. Some people can never worship beauty, never know how to call good things good. One must stay away from them. Their perception has always been terribly weak. Perhaps they have never drowned in any ocean of sorrow, and those who have somehow managed to surface from such depths know this: if you don't call beauty beautiful, how deeply beauty sulks!
Four. Whenever someone closes their eyes, they see what they love most. Your memories never leave me, not even for a moment. The mere thought of you somehow makes my eyes well up. When I think of being close to you, I sense a kind of fragrance around me. Is this too an illusion?
Five. After a certain time, people don't really love anyone anymore; they only want to receive love—I say this from experience.
As we age, love diminishes while greed increases: greed for affection, for tenderness, for love. Day by day, the greed for receiving love becomes sharper than the ability to give it.
Six. Just as we can only consider someone a friend on whose shoulder we can lean and walk with ease, if you observe closely, you'll see whether their eyes hold the respect a friend should have for you, or the understanding mentality they ought to possess. The reason is that nothing feels more painful than receiving hurt or betrayal from a friend. Even when a beloved leaves, it doesn't hurt as much as when a friend departs.
A friend is one who, even if you don't reach out, will come and say: "It's okay that you couldn't check on me—I still consider you my friend accepting this!"
A friend is one who, even if they point out your faults to your face, speaks well of you behind your back, and doesn't abandon you even when others criticize you.
Someone who exposes your faults in front of everyone is never a friend. A friend is one who highlights your virtues before others.
One who stays quiet when you're angry, who doesn't argue back just to win—that person is a friend.
Rather than hastily making friends, it's much better to remain alone with oneself.
Seven. You keep many excuses ready for me—I've caught on to this. Like how you're busy, can't find time, feeling a bit unwell so we can't meet, blah blah blah...
I don't engage in arguments with you. I'm waiting for when you'll break down this wall of excuses! You know I don't like forcing anything—but that doesn't mean I don't love you.
I want you to say, "I have twenty minutes free today." I want you to finish work one day and suddenly show up saying, "Make some tea—really strong, like liquor!"
I want you to let me know on your own when you're unwell, what you feel like eating. What else you might need—when your head aches, I want you to say so easily, "Could you massage my head a little?" I want you to give me time not in my way, but exactly in your own way.
I know all these demands of mine will seem like a thorn in your throat, but remember this too—I will never make any request that would cause your own heart pain in fulfilling. I truly love you, which is why I don't cause you suffering.
I love the good in my own way, but I keep in mind that everything should be according to your wishes before mine.
Only the mad are genuine, you know! The sane all live for themselves and their own interests!
Where will you find another madman like me once I'm gone?
Eight. When someone annoys me, I never speak to them with a smile; instead, I avoid them or treat them with utter rudeness. There's no point keeping irritating people in one's life. Trying to keep everyone happy is the most wretched task in this world. Since I will never stand for election in my life, I have no need to behave sweetly with everyone.
Nine. Women mistake deception for love, and love for deception. This is why deceivers always receive more affection from women. You won't find a woman who doesn't melt at sweet words and smiling faces. Even the woman who claims to be the exception among such women—flatter her properly on that very claim, and she'll be completely smitten! Women can't accept the truth when spoken directly, but when lies are presented through deeply touching means, women believe them profoundly. Bitter truths have far less acceptance with them than sweet lies.
Look at the devils of this world. You'll see they all have smiling faces, and their language is sweet as honey. And their behavior? So wonderful that you'd think the person is closer than your own brother! Once their purpose is achieved, you'll see their different face. And those who aren't like this—hardly anyone values them. It's because the straightforward are undervalued that this country is fertile ground for hypocrites.
Ten. Having to perform sincerity before the powerful...how uncomfortable that is!
Eleven. To help is to suffer.
Twelve. How do you know if you're a motherfucker?
Very simple. If you criticize someone else for doing the very thing you've done, or do, or dream of doing, then you are a distinguished motherfucker.
Thirteen. Being patient and being shameless are not the same thing; there's a difference between these two, friend! Learn to understand it.
Fourteen. Better to walk alone than to walk with an irresponsible person.
Fifteen. Even wanting desperately, you can't make just anyone your friend.

Even wanting desperately, you can't walk with your hand on just anyone's shoulder.

Someone I like immensely, respect deeply—I can't make them my friend unless I can walk naturally with my hand on their shoulder.

Loving people is easy, but making them friends is very difficult.
Sixteen. No matter, I know how to lose my desires, how to blow them away with one breath into the wind.
Seventeen. It doesn't take much to develop airs about yourself—just having wrong ideas about yourself will do.