Many times, some rhetoric always exposes romance, but closes the stitches of trauma. So much so that when it comes to lovesickness, it is often only seen that it is deeply in love, and does not feel its pain.
In fact, just like the metaphor of poisonous mushrooms, it can fill the emptiness of the stomach and will also lead to human fragility. Love itself may be similar to each other's filling of nothingness. This process is inseparable from disputes, confrontations and concessions, and is inseparable from the temptation and competition. Perhaps only in this way can we find a suitable place in the other's incomplete life, but this process will make us soft and sensitive, make us vulnerable and painful, and make our belts widen without regrets, but we are worried about whose tree the incense car is tied to. . And those stitches sewed in the heart, even if the pain disappears, the scar will remain forever.
It's just, just like Lin Yihan wrote, Plato said that when people seek the other half they are missing, two people are complete when they are combined, but when they are combined, they become one - only when they can never get together can they be forever companions. The emptiness will always be there, and the emptiness summons another desire. Therefore, it may not be possible for us to maintain a posture of falling in love all the time; and Rougemeng even said the earth-shattering words: "In the end, people even hope for the infidelity of their loved ones, so that they can chase again and experience themselves again. Love only exists."
In "The Lovers of the Café de Flore", Sartre and Beauvoir are well aware of the intrusion and short-lived, so they simply do not establish a relationship, but feel their love for each other with the blankness left in their hearts by each other's absence time and time again. rely. However, it is not so much that they did not fill the gap, it is better to say that they resignedly admit that the gap has always existed.
Even so, I still have to say that love is the weight of emptiness, the softness of pain, the vain flower, and the fireworks that are linked together. We encroach on each other with our imperfections, and at the same time we wet each other in the desert.
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