Have you ever liked someone but told yourself that you didn't like them because they're not your type, even though that other person actually is your type. . .not yet. . .but in the future. And you go out of your way to show that this other person is merely a good friend and that nothing will ever happen between the two of you, though you wish it would. . .sometimes, not always. . .but not yet for reasons you're unable to articulate clearly or even in your own mind's eye. And that even though the chemistry between the two of you is perfect, if you got any closer. . .it would be less than perfect. . .and if you grew further apart it would also be less than perfect, though in a different way.
And that the other person feels exactly the same way?
And you know it. And they know it. And you know what they know that about what you know about it. And neither one of you can do anything about it. And even to think about it is to commit some type of cultural or psychological no-no, because talking about it would simply spoil the perfect chemistry and so, as a result, you both end up not talking about this subject ever and try not to so much as even think or dwell about it, except on an instinctual level even though it's not an instinct but another part of your being called your spirit?
I think this is what the two protons in a helium atom go through.
Always orbiting one another at the same velocity and keeping (more or less) the same distance apart.
Always separated from one another and hidden from the other's view by the nucleus, but always aware of the presence of the other due to the strange laws of nature.
No wonder Uranium atoms-with their 238 protons- are so volatile.
(I'm glad I'm not a Mormon)
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