Do You Know Tyler Durden?

Dr. Sexson told a wonderful story the last two days of class. He was riding on a plane, a woman told him of her stories she told in the holocaust concentration camp to save her life. Then she said she lied and then showed she didn't.
Now, I was having lunch with Mick this Wednesday. He was asking what he missed in Monday's class. My mind was blank, but after a while I remembered that story. With Mick having already heard this story we began to speak intelligently about it.
We both began with how amazing this experience must have been, but then I posed the question of Sexson's story being a story.
When we, the audience, heard the twist in the story we were shocked! But how shocking of a twist if what Sexson said was a creation. At first I want to say that his story was just because we looked like we needed a good story. Just like the Symposium we don't know what is truth because we have to trust someone else for the facts. But I wanted to fight the idea of this plane trip as truth. It really seems unlikely, at least to me, that some woman is traveling around giving packages, stories, and making people question everything. And more probable that this is a story about a story.
But work with me on this. What if the story is true and false! I feel lame relating to a movie so lets use the book. Fight Club is all about perspective. Everybody believes that Tyler is real even the guy who imagined him. Could this Jasmine/Sarah girl be just the same thing? Somethings are best left unknown...like the package.

The Speech of Stolba Minimus

I was not excited to read about love. In fact I came to everyones speech with resentment. However I must admit I did not find it as flowery as I thought it would be. But I stand on the side of sparagmos. That's truly what is hidden behind the false outer image of love. The tearing, shredding, ripping of your living flesh! Just because we are all not walking around physically missing pieces of ourselves doesn't mean we haven't felt the pain. The more we try and love the more pieces we find missing. In my experience, I think I have had more pain because of love than happiness, joy, and all those things we wish for. The chip on my shoulder is probably big enough to be on both shoulders.
I can't deny it, though I try to, that I still long for the love of an other. And it is in this longing that my soul is constantly being ripped to pieces. Is it the absence of love or the loss of it creating my agony? Both. Is this why I forfeit the good and settle for the bad? Of course it is. Anymore I just a shell of a person waiting and becoming old; given up on the prospect. Some people know me. That is to say they know a few things about me and could give an accurate description of who I am. These people try and lift me up. We have all heard encouragement like: "you can do better than that," "you are such a great person".......I've heard them all. Don't believe a damn one! I know that I'm correct in my belittling of myself because time and time again it is just me. I will wait for something that is not there. A phone call, a text, an invitation, someone to save me from my loneliness. But it is just me, always has been always will be. I must be broken or something.
If it is better to never have been born at all, which I believe, then it is better to never have loved. Agreed?
This is the true sparagmos for good reason. I can comprehend the physical tearing of flesh, but the emotional, and spiritual is too much for me. It's the eating away from the inside that we have all heard of. I can't understand it and I can't do anything about it.
I hope that my image of love changes. I really do! The sooner the better, but (and there's always a but) hope has also seemed to fade.
I wonder what wise socrates would say to such things?