And maybe that safety is costing me something I can't get back. The recklessness of being young. The willingness to believe in something even if it might not last forever.

I read something recently about people who never take emotional risks and end up somehow more lonely than people who loved badly. Because at least they felt something. At least they tried. At least they were alive for a moment. 💔

What's best for me might not be more of what I already am. It might be less. Less analysis. Less certainty. Less knowing exactly what I want before I've even let myself want it.

I still believe that what lasts is more important than what feels good right now. That hasn't changed. But I'm wondering if maybe I've been too willing to dismiss the feelings as meaningless just because they're temporary. Maybe temporary can still matter. Maybe chemistry that burns out can still have taught you something. Maybe the intensity of not-knowing is part of what makes you feel real. 🔥

The stoic thing in me wants to control everything, to know how it will end before it begins, to only invest in things that have a guaranteed return. But that's not how being human works. That's not how love works, if love is what I'm eventually looking for.

I think what's best for me is to learn how to hold both things: the realistic understanding that most things don't last forever, and the willingness to be surprised by something that might. To keep my head, but not keep my heart so locked up that nothing can reach it. 💫

Is it possible to be a hopeful skeptic? To believe in lasting things while staying open to temporary ones? I'm starting to think that's not a contradiction. That's just being alive.