The moment I care, I am vulnerable. I am in danger. Yet I must invest in something. I am a social creature. It is my strength and my weakness.

I care for my life, and that is selfish, but not wrong.

I care for you, and that is selfish, and loving, and uncertain, and confusing.

The gifts you can give me are far greater than the gifts I can give myself. And so I make sacrifices to you. But how much should I offer? How much is safe? How much is prudent? When better to be imprudent? When worse?

This negotiation between myself and ourself feels vulgar.

Even if I knew what you wanted, could I give it to you? How long would you want it? Perhaps I could make myself into what you want. I could become your fetish. Hide myself away from you forever. How much effort will it require to be two people – the one I believe you want and the one I am. How long before I loose the person I am? How long before all that is left is a facade? How many people can I split myself for? How many versions of myself do I need?

Better to show you myself and hope you will love me? But sometimes you won’t. That will hurt. I fear I only have the strength to be one person and become one person. Anyway, the tattered authentic is always more esteemed than the most pristine mock.