---is that they don’t even know how much they have left destroyed in their wake.
They cannot even begin to understand it.
An intrinsic part of the self, the part that helps us survive, would not allow anyone else to see the agony. To make a show of it like a circus is vulgar. It would be more of an offense against us, and they are blessedly left oblivious to it.
And always, always, they realize what was lost and they would want to return— too late, too late. We have already become cold to what had painfully altered us. Some of us are reborn even colder and think of love as no longer love but a death game. So the next time, we always hold more and more back. For some of us, there is no next time. Some of us never even love again.
Some are allowed to return to our lives as friends once more but few survive the more taxing rigors of friendship. Friendship in this mad tea party requires more love than loving does. Ghosts from our pasts who want to return are asked: Can you continue to love someone--- this Self you never really knew--- who could never love you back the way you were loved before?
This mad tea party knows the answer to that.
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