• 2008-02-28

    unrequited love

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    http://www.blogbus.com/danecao-logs/16107048.html

    True Love,I always think and believe,shall be pure,shall never be tainted with selfish agendas, or driven by any non-spiritual impulses.I mean if you truly love someone, you must love him or her with all your heart,you must love his/her flaws as well as what makes him/her the cutest person in the world.If you are really in love with him/her,you must not obsess over what would EVER come out of it,of course a good ending is always hoped and prayed for,you just love,selflessly,wholeheartedly,regretlessly,eternally,regardless of the result,the response,the reciprocation whatsoever...

    And this is LOVE.Unreserved love, pure love, love in its truest and most meaningful way.Yes,unrequited love seems to be safely the case. And yes, Love shall have close to nothing to do with fame and fortune,appearance and age, potential and the personality...Love is love,and shall always be as such.

    Love is not blind until it finds the right person, but once it perches there, it shall be TOTALLY blind, blind to anything, anything at all that is not pertaining to the unfathomable, inexplicable surges of affection for someone without ever asking for an answer or response.

    Nothing epitomizes this kind of love better than the one as poignanty delineated in Stefen Zweig's classic "letter from an unknown woman".My first girlfriend(now married) first directed me to it when I was in college.At one dark and musty corner of the college library,I found Zweig's book and devoured the little piece,bleary-eyed all the way through... The woman's relating of her secret,selfless love doesn't sound tragic, but determined,dignified even,even though you have every reason to expect otherwise.She herself describes her love for the man she loves,"I am sure that no one else has ever loved you so slavishly, with such doglike fidelity, with such devotion, as I did and do... It is hopeless and subservient; it is patient and passionate; it is something which the covetous love of a grown woman, the love that is unconsciously exacting, can never be."I reread the piece last night,and I STILL couldn't hold back my tears.The girl never discloses her affections until the last moment of her life,by the bed of her dead son.I mean,could there be any love more pure and true than this? Could there be anything more moving and unforgettable?

    Ironically,I hope this is just fictional,something completely made up by Zweig,something that would never happen to a woman.Although this is the true love we hope to see more and enshrine,it's cruel,unfair,ruthlessly non-nourishing to a woman,any woman.

    It is my fond hope that she had told him her love and they finally met and they fell in love and they lived happily ever after...

    Look who is getting fictional here?

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