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Essentially, loving someone is placing yourself in the hands of that person and making yourself totally vulnerable to disappointment, frustration, and heartache caused by them, be it intentional or accidental.

Side note: I know--quite optimistic. Keep in mind that I'm going on less than four hours of sleep, having spent all of yesterday at Cedar Point and all of today at church and various rehearsals, and rather than go to bed, I've set myself up here to node my way into a state of complete sleep depravation. End side note.

But you know what? That's the bit I can get past. There's some element of risk in anything, and there are all sorts of squishy reasons to go ahead and allow yourself that vulnerablity. The sticky part, as I see it, goes something like this:

What if I end up being the one causing the disappointment, frustration, and/or heartache? Can I actually trust myself with this gift that this person is willing to share with me? I am so imperfect, so prone to entertaining my overactive imagination. What if somehow, I end up being the one causing damage?

I can't stand that idea. It terrifies me. And thus, these thoughts peck at my brain, attempting to drive me mad fretting about something that's not even visible on the horizon at this point in time. Or at any point in time in the foreseeable future.

Perhaps I just need some rest and everything will go away...

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