Human beings, even the most damaged, the psychopath, have an unrepenting weakness. The fault of gullibility, particularly when it touches a peers expression of emotion, feeling, their display and statement of admiration, desire, love, passion. Our psyches are so thirsty for the slaking refreshment of esteem, approbation, we will willingly believe the most obvious of lies, the least likely of constructs, to attain our most ardently sought fixation.
That the human, that supposedly most superior of intellects, should be dependent upon another’s validation for their acclamation, is both ironic, and pointedly puzzling. Bereft of support, succor, and encouragement the poor human withers like an unnurtured grape upon the vine, becoming dry, unpalatable, a crop without body, appeal, or purpose.
Bad enough to exist within the shadow of another, but how much more damning to go unnoticed, insignificant, not in the least warranting of the mildest of attention.