A strength can become a weakness in the blink of an eye.
How many people get good marks and make big money, not out of ambition, or the challenge of it all, or the pure love of self-development and motivated exercise — but rather out of fear of inferiority, obscurity, mundanity? How could you ever tell that they were afraid just by looking at their façade?
How many people behave reservedly in their lovelives, not because of a will to independence and a slow savoring of each minute step on the path of love — but because of a horrible fear of final rejection, or a hatred, or jaded disappointment, with the motley mass of humanity?
How many people seek out new places, not for the thrill and adventure of discovery, but because of something left behind — or a compelling desire to be "where it's at," rather than where it should be?
But a weakness can become a strength.
We hate what we fear. We fear that which can undo us. But with willpower and cunning, with moxy, with chutzpah, we can take on anything; there are no threats, only challenges. And for the epitomes of humanity, the sages, the completed persons — for them, the world is like unto an adventure and a game rolled into one, with nothing to hate and everything to love. Not because love is good in itself and hate bad, but rather because there's nothing left to fear.
Identifying weakness is for the weak. The strong have no weaknesses — only indulgences. Because it's only a weakness if you're not strong enough to turn it from a liability into a blessing.
Bless yourself.