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“Love was opening gates, letting in a person apart from oneself, hoping they’d fill the space of her empty rooms, and trusting them not to break her house... for what was the point of love if not showing both the good and bad parts, both the impregnable and vulnerable parts? Once we love someone, we could never really unlove them, could never really take away the rooms in which they inhabit, only dictate the spaces where they were allowed to occupy. There was really no going back once we opened the gates to someone else. They’d have left their marks inside.” — Mica De Leon
Love was opening gates, letting in a person apart from oneself, hoping they’d fill the space of her empty rooms, and trusting them not to break her house... for what was the point of love if not showing both the good and bad parts, both the impregnable and vulnerable parts? Once we love someone, we could never really unlove them, could never really take away the rooms in which they inhabit, only dictate the spaces where they were allowed to occupy. There was really no going back once we opened the gates to someone else. They’d have left their marks inside.