I love people.

Everyone you love will, at some point, disappoint you.

That is one of the hardest truths for me to swallow.

I love people. Some may think "well yeah, you're an extrovert", but that's not what I'm talking about. I love people. My family and friends and mentors and kids I babysit. I tell people that I love them. Not just my parents and my boyfriend, but others that I am close to as well. Some find this weird. Some aren't sure how to handle it. But I tell them anyway, because some people don't hear it enough, and others hear it too much in meaningless ways.

I love people. And that gets me in trouble. Sometimes I try too hard to make them happy. I wear myself down, suffocating in my own worries and pain and questions that I leave unsaid in favor of listening to others. Sometimes I become so enthralled with the beauty of another's soul that I become blind to the inevitable flaws it has. I defend and justify furiously when I should really accept them as humans, who are as imperfect as I am, and allow them space to heal.

I love people. And they disappoint me, just as should be expected - not in a cynical, jaded way, but in an "you are human, and I recognize that" way. Sometimes my love clouds my vision, and I forget that they are more than the perfectly formed robot I have subconsciously imagined they are. Sometimes I am the sole reason for my disappointment.

I love people. And I won't apologize for it. It looks crazy. It hurts every now and then. But I will keep loving. Because you are a beautiful child of God, and you are worth it all, regardless of the pain that may come from it.

You are worth all the love I can give and much, much more.