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I worry, probably too much, about accidentally offending you. It's not that I think you're easily offended, or that I'm overly offensive, but I think I know too well the struggle with structure and meaning, of the uncontrollable implications of positionality and assignment, of not wanting anyone else to feel how you've been made to feel. This fear is diminishing with time, as stronger history and connection come to overshadow fear and doubt, which leaves me more free to enjoy the you that exists right now, rather than the recursive trigger I sometimes respond to you like. I'm happy for the change, but impatient for more.