The devil we know.

I used to confuse comfort and safety; sometimes they feel like sisters. But one can be cruel while the other is always kind … even when that kindness stings.

Safety is a locked door. Survival. Sometimes it burns, like medicine on your tongue – painful but necessary. And sometimes it feels warm, close enough to comfort that it’s easy to mistake one for the other.

Comfort is trickier. It can be tenderly corrosive. It consumes you gently, like a beast that anesthetizes its prey with venom. It isn’t kind – just soothing, so you close your eyes.

I’ve become very wary of comfort.

I try not to let it lull me into a false sense of security. I’m learning to recognize the difference between softness and sedation.

But that doesn’t really answer your question, does it?