I like to be in the library, especially where there are a lot of books. I love the wealth of knowledge therein. Just being there makes me happy, even if I’m not reading all of those books at that time. Perhaps only one. Or sometimes none at all.
Just like in relationships. Being with a friend, with someone special, makes us happy. Somehow completes us, puts us at ease, and gives us comfort and a sense of inner pride. We are happy to love and cherish, and happy to receive the same in return. But sometimes just being with the person does it all for us.
But supposing I took a book at a time, dismissed it by its size, color, and font; or just tore it up or threw it on the floor? In time, there would not be much of a library left for me. Yet we do this to our loved ones, our friends and family. We tear them apart, day after day. They become sad and lose their fervor, the magical look in their eyes. They are hurt. We lose them, the relationship with them. And they lose us, us who value them. Both parties are hurt, both parties are at a loss.