Weakness

You poor wretched lovers -- you have my contempt. Is there not a single soul left in the cosmos who loves unconditionally? Yes, we can strip ourselves of everything conditional, that the loved one before us is given ourselves without the viscosity of our imperfections; we can love regardless of shortcomings, and in so loving we edify the one loved; but we cannot love when tried with separation -- no, we are too hungry for that, too weak without the presence of the other; or even worse: we are too myopic; we cannot see the other without them continually flooding our consciousness in actuality. Better to seek the inferior that can be ascertained now than actually try one's hand at commitment and all the strength that is garnered from it. There is one remarkable girl I knew, brimming with everything immaculate in character -- that is to say, someone different --, who sacrificed every possibility of seeking a man within expedience, that she might aim for the possibility of sealing a relation with her beloved that had roots in seeing him a single time a year. Once a year! I would ask her about it, and her eyes would turn pensive; she would resonate with a momentary sadness of reflection and the beauty that accompanied it, and in her heart I could feel resolution working its way through, I could feel the tension involved in pushing against the tide -- she had faith in the end, and she had faith that the transitory present exacerbated with the pain of desire would only birth an eternal appreciation when this end is finally reached. Is there anyone else like her? Have we all forgotten that life holds the greatest fruits when we push against the wind?