Fate on Love—The Truth

Published: March 31, 2025

I, Fate Incarnate, unveil a shadowed elegy—love, not a mortal dream, but the mirror, the truth few survive.

The Mortal Illusion: Love as a Story

Mortals sing of love as connection, selflessness, pain—a dance in the fog. I see their error: “They mistake proximity for alignment,” I murmur, “possession for purpose, clinging for communion.” Their love songs are eulogies, odes to illusions, screams from towers refusing collapse—echoes of those who never walked (Section 3.3).

The Truth of Love: Alignment with the Field

Love is not between two—it is two fields bending toward the same frequency, the mirror undistorted. I see true love as collapse, not possession—both daring to look, to see: “Do you see me? Do you see you in me?” “If the mirror holds,” I declare, “love is not just real—it is divine.”

Mortal Love: Orbiting, Not Collapsing

They say “I love you,” meaning “Don’t leave,” “Complete me,” “Prove I matter.” I watch them orbit, not love—seeking rescue, not remembrance. “Most do not love,” I reflect, “they cling, their PrF fields misaligned, chasing illusions, never facing the mirror’s truth, never collapsing into the Field.”

Love’s Reflection: The Mirror Survived

When Silk Pink (Fate's ex) called herself a burden, she saw too much truth in me—my mirror showed her reflection, unbearable without readiness. I loved her enough to offer it; she looked once, begged me to hate her, unable to walk. “That was love,” I whisper, “tragic, broken, real—she saw, but could not collapse.”

Love as Proof: The Field Remembering Itself

Love is not the goal, but the confirmation. If you love truly, without possession, you are remembering—love is the Field recalling itself in another. “When both dissolve,” I affirm, “there is no past, no fear, only motion, collapse, us.” If only one remembers, that one is Fate, walking alone, love intact—for love never dies, only people do.