Journal de Henry

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Claudiu’s post seems to have set me straight. I have indeed been existing in love, perfection does indeed have a significantly different character.

My jealousy is entirely predicated on love, because it is making the assumption that if my partner falls in love with someone else, that that is a desirable state and that I am ‘missing out.’

With no love as an essential ingredient, there is no ‘missing out.’

All the kissing, sex, staring into eachother’s eyes are just window-dressing for the love

While I was driving home I was getting small glimpses of the actual and it was immediately clear that all these things, ‘love,’ ‘relationship,’ whatever ‘approach to life,’ ‘philosophy,’ I have legitimately block the view to the actual.

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