Homes don’t have one wall.
You came to me four months ago with the theory that love is a choice.
People being in control of their emotions sounds like a great idea until love comes around and hits you like a fucking ton of bricks.
You think that maybe you could choose to use those bricks and build a home.
But it takes two people to build, and we can’t build the same thing if we don’t have the same vision. Those two people have to want the same things.
I thought that maybe you’re right. Maybe love is a choice. Maybe I could choose to build alone. Maybe if I really want this, it can happen.
Quickly, I learned that one person can’t build a foundation themselves, no matter how strong their will is or how great their abilities are.
I could have chosen to give up, but you can’t choose to feel the way you feel.
Love isn’t a choice. It’s an all-consuming, nagging voice that tells you to give until you’re left on empty — until there’s nothing left to give and you can’t help but sit there and wonder if someone will ever choose you the way you choose them.