It is a love story.
It’s a work story. It’s a story of pain, of bitter resentment. Love isn’t a hole for fallers. It’s a decision. Tick, tick…every second. It is grime and crying babies and unbrushed teeth.
Put your head down, put your blinders on, and plow. Love isn’t a life of naps.
If you can’t do that, if you won’t do it…if you are too proud for low horses. If you can’t get on the horse…and back on…back on. If you can’t be the workhorse…
If you want to watch a love story, if you want to invent one in your head, if you want a lusty affair, if you’re looking for a plateau, you’re wrapped up in the wrong life. That’s not love.
Never trust a snapshot. A lie worth a thousand words. Trust an empty closet rod. Trust an eviction notice. Trust a full trunk.
Careful who you talk to. Don’t say it outloud. Not yet.
Every choice you made. Every choice you didn’t make. All adds up to now. You chose this.