You don’t get to pick who you love. You don’t get to pick why you love them, either. You don’t decide who, with all their quirks and flaws and problems that probably make you want to strangle them, you don’t choose the person who stumbles and jokes and awkwardly mumbles their way into you heart. You don’t decide who has the ability to turn your entire world inside out and upside down and repaint it with any color they want to. But you do decide what to do about it. And I think that in any universe, in any alternate world where we both exist, I think I would choose to tell you the truth. Because no matter what happens or how badly we hurt each other, I would rather know if you love me than spend the rest of my life wondering.
— from an unfinished story #401