In the name of jealousy love was born,
This sick love,
We miserable creatures.

Keep your doubts while you listen to them theorizing hope.

I thought of this a couple of days ago:
conscious is you and me, that miserable struggling part of a human being. Unconscious is that confident part which knows everything about us, what happens to conscious has been decided for and planned in unconscious before, the good news is that what we do in conscious now will affect the unconscious (Depending on how we do it). That's why that struggle is precious, it is the meaning of life, that's why those who do it should be proud, I hail those who live.
I will explain more.

When I love someone and she suffers of something I definitely suffer, but it's killing me when I don't know why she suffers. That's interesting. I think I'm functioning right, just like a human being.