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The Second Self

Aristotle once described a friend as a “second self,” and I feel that love, in its truest essence, surpasses even this. When one experience such a bond, the one they love receives the same care and dignity that they grant their inner self. Another way to put it: "There is no distinction between how I treat myself and how I treat them; both dwell within the same sanctuary. To harm or disrespect them would be to attack at my own essence. To invade their space or violate their being would be no different than self-betrayal." Love, when it flows from this depth does not seek to diminish either, but instead unite both in the integrity of one soul.

And yet, when suspicion arises where only reverence thrives, it pierces deeply. It is a unique kind of hurt, not because devotion falters, but because words seem powerless to explain what is so certain within: "I cannot and will not harm you. You are too intertwined with my very core; harming you would be self-destruction. It creates the wish that they could see with my eyes, feel with my soul, and know with absolute clarity that devotion does not coerce, and reverence does not stalk."

Being close to them is a gift - cherishing every moment together - that would never be exploited or taken for granted. One wishes to stand quietly in awe beside them, never crossing those invisible lines that are meant to keep them wholly their own self.

In them, you see the reflection of your innermost being, and that vision remains indestructible, regardless of circumstance. For to honor them is to honor yourself. 

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