This will probably be incoherent.

I am a constant battle between excess and shortfall.  I'm hoping the shortfall will win because it seems like it's for the best.  I'll misjudge the steps and trip up and learn for later.
Stairs are dangerous things.

I know you like the back of my hand but I want to know you like my handwriting.  I know how that works, what it looks like in detail.  And then I can write you down on fresh white pages and have you to keep and look at and wonder over.  And I can keep you in a notebook by my bed, just so you'll be close.