Two things

One: I am intrigued by the different levels of honesty people hold with each other--how some people are let in on more things than others, and while those others are not being lied to or deceived, they simply aren't let in on all the facets of your life. Not that everyone needs to know everything, really, but the decision to allot some people with less information than others is very interesting. The reasons why are interesting. Better friendships, more trust, longer history?

Sean says, "I figure I'm generally as honest as I ever am with anybody but the better I know and trust you, the more I'll divulge about the why and the how and such." You only let your closest people in deeper, "because every new layer of intention and motivation and background you divulge gets closer to your absolute core. And sometimes you're holding back without realizing it. Either you're not sure how you really feel about something, or uncomfortable with what some of these deeper layers would indicate about yourself, not just to everybody else. Knowing yourself is a scary thing sometimes."

You're so much more eloquent than I am, darling.

Two: People try too hard to upgrade their situations; social situations especially, whether it be a significant other or the people you went out with for the evening.

Instead of relishing the small perfections of a significant other, people focus on faults and start making charts and graphs of the improvements the next one should posses, like an assembly line, a ladder to the top.

How can you commit your whole self to loving someone when you're so busy focusing on the flaws you'd like to be rid of? So much time that you could have spent reveling in your relationship with this person was wasted, the potential never fully realized.

There's nothing wrong with wanting to be better at things, to get better things in or from life, but I cannot begin to express how achingly sad it would be to never have been fully immersed, wholly consumed by your perfect love for another, flawed though they may be.

People don't love completely. More accurately, people are afraid to love completely. You have to. Drowning is the only way you can do love justice. If you don't give in, if you don't jump in, if you're not in fifty feet over your head, you're doing it wrong.

Undoubtedly you'll be hurt this way. In giving full devotion, you do nothing but risk. But the risk is phenomenal and any resulting hurt is so much better than the pretense of being safe. It's so much better than not giving everything. To get deeply hurt is nearly as good as deeply loving. It's the only thing that matters, the only thing that's really, really, really meaningful.


Three things, then.