What can we hope for, except truth? There is little chance of promises being kept, unless they are promises of change, for we can no more tell if we will always be kind than if the sun will warm our faces that day. Because really, isn’t that all we truly want to know? Will you be kind to me? Will you treat me well? Is my heart safe with you?
And of course, we can never know, because we are all imperfect and the chances are we will forget to be kind one day, and someone will choose to blame our momentary lack of integrity on a fundamental character flaw, destined to be repeated and therefore requiring us to be written off or punished with distance…. Or perhaps, they will instead recognise our imperfections as their opportunities to heal….and allow us both the opportunity for radical honesty and transparency, rather than promises we can only ever hope to keep. Perhaps even, that we will trust ourselves to hold our hearts safely, and that when we open those hearts to others it is done so with the knowledge that whatever happens, our hearts will always be safe, because we put our faith in love, not an imperfect interpretation of who someone else should be

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