Fear not. The air is, and was, clear. Such doubts as I've had have never been about matters of substance, grievance, or complaint - only the usual doubts of whether and to what degree a person who I've met (or never met, in theory!), especially one whom I regard highly, knows me - and therefore, whether and to what degree their like or their love can truly be "of me."
That's clear enough. I don't say one can only love the known, but the love of one not known is surely of a different character than a love of one known. I'm not trying to be existential, here. Epistemology - as regards the so-called nature of reality, I mean. As regards the possibility of "knowledge." It's a topic of pure trivia and whimsy! One which can never increase one's grasp of anything useful or tangible. Good for amusement, of course! Otherwise puerile, sophomoric, inutile.
Epistemology, solely as it relates to human beings, is in fact a vital and urgent question.
Do we know each other?
How do we know each other?
How do we know we know each other?
How well do we know each other?