Knowing her well enough to see both sides.
The brave woman who would dance in the ring of fire.
And the woman who would later sit alone and question whether she should have stepped into the ring at all.
The woman who could be fearless.
And the woman who could get trapped in her own thoughts.
The woman who made you feel at home.
And the woman who could make you want to pull your hair out.
That’s real affection.
Real affection survives disillusionment.
Infatuation doesn’t.