Sometimes love is a stone that drags you under the furious waves of a stormy sea.
You reach for it and it's the most precious thing you've ever wanted to possess.
It haunts your dreams and you return time, and time, and time again, getting mouthfuls of water and choking on it, expelling what can drown you.

Sometimes love is the air that you so desperately crave, but your gills can't, won't use.
The air that works for the birds and the dolphin kills you if you don't throw yourself back into the waters of your home.
The unattainable, the wrong, but desirable, and the thing you want most.

Sometimes love is a poison you agree to take, even though it slowly kills you.
The hand that dishes it out fills you with love. One comes with the other and the only way to not accept the poison is to reject them both.

Always. Every time. Not just some of the times, it is a choice.
The choice to go back to drowning, to the place that hurts us, to the poison.
Some of the times it's an impossible choice, an unthinkable choice, a choice you don't want to make.

Never is it an easy one, or you would have made it already.