On risk taking

There is no sure thing. As a matter of fact, the likelihood of changing needs or incompatibility is high. But it's the imperfections and idiosyncrasies of you that draw me in.  Those things make you challenging, like a puzzle.  I'll work on it at midnight when the storm is in full swing, threatening the comfort that I take for granted and forcing me to acknowledge that feeling safe is more important to me than I realize.  I like that those quirks keep me interested, giving me reasons to keep searching and dwelling on what I appreciate, forcing the negative behind the rose colored lenses.  In my search, I see the potential, and I take one more risky step forward.

I already compromised. I ate at midnight, and I returned to the familiar. For me, ignoring my head and focusing on my heart was a compromise. But I want to take this risk. This risk sits right in the middle of everything that is the same, making everything around me different from what it once was and making it impossible to ever have it be the same as before.

You are difficult and intense.  I am flexible and quirky, unafraid of strength but afraid of losing. I am focused but not blind. I will encourage you to stay true to yourself and to meet your potential because I extend the same courtesy to myself.

I want to take the risk so that I am the one you turn to for encouragement, the one who convinces you not to fear change.

I want to shake you out of the comfort zone.  Don't stay stagnate, because it's impossible to do that anyway, and it disappoints me. Trying to avoid change, hurt, or discomfort creates voids, I think. You'd risk pain, devastation, or loss in exchange for the protection of your beliefs because it's worth it. And I am too.

I can't make promises to the end of the Earth that there won't come a time that it won't work. But I can promise to always give in faith and mind. I can't be someone else or give what others have given, just in the same way that I can't be French or look like that new Bond girl every second of my life. I can't be the perfect mix of attractive and intelligent. I can only be me. And me is not always like you. And me is a woman, your greatest fear. Me is someone who is powerful because I am charged with holding your heart safe while I balance, always on the verge. But in exchange, that risk I've taken too. I've contracted the protection of my heart out to a mercenary instead of using my own forces which I've carefully built since Day 1.

Every risk I've ever taken has enriched me, filled me, reminded me that I'm human. I am not afraid.