I re-read Dostoevsky’s “The Idiot” and again and again I enjoy it immensely, drowning in this brilliant world - style, characters, and conflicts... Just one name of the hero - Lev Myshkin - isn’t that brilliant? !It’s admirable how Dostoevsky describes the hero’s illness (and his own illness) and how in the Epanchins’ living room the prince talks about the impressions of someone sentenced to death and pardoned (again, about his own impressions)... I think that in Myshkin the author portrayed an ideal myself. But if there is an ideal part of the personality, there will be another, painfully connected with it, contrasting, not ideal - and this, of course, is Rogozhin. That is why the characters are so closely connected in the novel, as if one cannot exist without the other - as parts of one whole personalities who cannot reconcile with each other and sometimes even want to destroy each other (we remember how Rogozhin wants to kill Myshkin, while loving him at the same time). Rogozhin’s passionate, painfully dependent love for Nastasya Filippovna is, of course, how a textbook on codependency. But Myshkin’s love also cannot be called healthy: he endlessly emphasizes that he loves Nastasya Filippovna “with pity”, and, let us add, as if incorporeal, as if all physical passions remained with Rogozhin, and Myshkin’s personality was left only with quiet pity an eternal savior, ignoring gender and body. I often notice in practice and in life that the stronger the degree of codependency, the higher the ideals that a person declares, often completely irrespective of life. More than once I have listened to inspired discussions about God and how to live , from people who, in their own reality, are very far from simple and banal HUMANITY (which, by the way, is not so easy to grow into - it’s easier to go straight to God))). What is this? Our Russian, boundless and large-scale passions? Or a sick craving to realize the ideal of love, despite one’s own gigantic deficit? And there’s some kind of painful connection here: a person seems to have two poles - on the one hand, fatal passions, like Rogozhin’s, on the other, a craving for ideal relationships, such as in does not exist in nature, as in Myshkin. And all these extremes of one person are not life. Life is somewhere in the middle. Where everyday life and humanity are. Approximately where General Epanchina is. But after the passions it’s somehow bland. I think that in Myshkin the author portrayed his ideal self. But if there is an ideal part of the personality, there will be another, painfully connected with it, contrasting, not ideal - and this, of course, is Rogozhin.