There is something terrifying about love when it finds you in the middle of becoming, or unbecoming. You want to hold it gently, but you are still learning how to hold on to yourself.
Love on a precipice feels like standing one honest conversation away from a completely different life. Not because it changes everything overnight, but because it has a way of revealing everything you are not, and everything you have not yet become.
And perhaps that is what makes it frightening. Not loving someone else, but wondering whether you will recognise yourself when they love you back.