Trust is everything, and cheating breaks it. Love & emotions don’t always mix. I’m about to get a little personal, but this needs to get off my mind, and be shared with those I care for. Cheating is not safe. It’s not genuine. It’s not any good for you or those around you. If they won’t let you see your phone, Why are you sleeping together? Why are you wasting time wondering about someone who is never there? And you’re calling the one you friendzoned that’s not staying zoned-ed cause you trust them more, and then one really lonely day or night something happens and…
Fact is, it’s easy. too easy, to care so little, and to cause so much damage to try and place blame for.
Own up to your mistakes, and try to find the love & trust for you in you, so you can have someone special to take care of you.
Now my single-self is shutting-up and logging off.
Jorge Luis Borges. The Library of Babel. Illustrations by Erik Desmaziéres. 1965.
The Garden of Forking Paths
"The universe (which others call the Library) is composed of an indefinite and perhaps infinite number of hexagonal galleries, with vast air shafts between, surrounded by very low railings. From any of the hexagons one can see, interminably, the upper and lower floors. The distribution of the galleries is invariable. Twenty shelves, five long shelves per side, cover all the sides except two; their height, which is the distance from floor to ceiling, scarcely exceeds that of a normal bookcase. One of the free sides leads to a narrow hallway which opens onto another gallery, identical to the first and to all the rest. To the left and right of the hallway there are two very small closets. In the first, one may sleep standing up; in the other, satisfy one’s fecal necessities. Also through here passes a spiral stairway, which sinks abysmally and soars upwards to remote distances. In the hallway there is a mirror which faithfully duplicates all appearances. Men usually infer from this mirror that the Library is not infinite (if it were, why this illusory duplication?); I prefer to dream that its polished surfaces represent and promise the infinite … Light is provided by some spherical fruit which bear the name of lamps. There are two, transversally placed, in each hexagon … I say that the Library is unending. The idealists argue that the hexagonal rooms are a necessary form of absolute space or, at least, of our intuition of space. They reason that a triangular or pentagonal room is inconceivable. (The mystics claim that their ecstasy reveals to them a circular chamber containing a great circular book, whose spine is continuous and which follows the complete circle of the walls; but their testimony is suspect; their words, obscure. This cyclical book is God.) Let it suffice now for me to repeat the classic dictum: The Library is a sphere whose exact center is any one of its hexagons and whose circumference is inaccessible …The Library exists ab aeterno. This truth, whose immediate corollary is the future eternity of the world, cannot be placed in doubt by any reasonable mind. Man, the imperfect librarian, may be the product of chance or of malevolent demiurgi; the universe, with its elegant endowment of shelves, of enigmatical volumes, of inexhaustible stairways for the traveler and latrines for the seated librarian, can only be the work of a god.” -Borges