Similarly, it takes some time for my emotions to reach my mouth.

"I was always ashamed to take. So I gave. It was not a virtue. It was a disguise.” — Anaïs Nin

Part I.

What I do, I do from love. I investigate this under the zeal of insecurity. Recently, I’ve been thinking—what part of this thing called giving is a concealed attempt to receive?

I try to take a moment, a beat, often before I give, to investigate my motive and my attachment to the gift. Is this something that I will resent? If it is, that is when I stop.

This investigation is hard because I do love it. I love many things dearly and deeply, and I try to give love, admiration, or affection. I attempt not to give from pity or obligation, and I hope not to receive from those spaces either. I’m never indifferent. When I give, it gifts me a particular warm joy, a particular warm joy.

"I am never indifferent. Indifference or passivity are impossible for me.” — Anaïs Nin

Part II.

When I feel slightly rejected or disrespected, I give the gift of acceptance and silence, not for lack of passion but for the presence of compassion. Why let my insecurities dictate how I treat someone? My most violent act is leaving, and it is never done to inflict pain but to remove the infectious nature of insecurity.

I was once with a friend who said something incredibly unfriendly to me. “You spread your anxieties to everyone—giving it to everyone to deal with.” While cutting, some parts were true, and that’s when I decided not to let anxieties move me but to allow my passions to become leaders in my limbs.

Due to this, I am never thoughtless; I am deliberate and clinical—which may seem like a lack of passion, but to me, it is a presence of responsibility. I hope the middle ground will open itself up to me so that I can show my passion on my face and allow others to see me deeply. Until then, I will describe myself in the words of myself and others.