I think I have to depend on the love of God, because it’s his love – whether through other people who are drawn to his love or just him – it’s love regardless. I don’t know what love is, honestly, but I think love is a revelation. It’s an unveiling. I tend toward suspicion of answers. Having answers, defining everything, having everything. Definitions just don’t work for me. Certainty and answers don’t work for me. Neediness for certainty like that is desperate. Like sometimes I look at the sky but it’s like I vacate “I am looking at the sky” because, you know, language dictates how you experience. I think I have come to see that companionship doesn’t guarantee you love. How many people don’t make it? How many people can’t do what love requires of them? So, love endures. And if I can think about these things, and write about them, and even just be, and be comfortable with my questions, then it’s like, I know I am loved.