You Were Never a Choice - You Were the Decision
There are things I may never be able
to tell you out loud.
Not because they aren’t true - but because some truths are too fragile to
survive conversation. So I leave them here, quietly, between words, hoping one
day you might recognize yourself in them.
You were never a choice to me.
You were the decision I made without fear.
Not because loving you was easy - it
wasn’t.
But because leaving you never felt right.
Most people enter our lives as
options. Temporary. Conditional. Replaceable. We weigh them, compare them, ask
ourselves “Is this enough?” or “Can I find better?” That’s how
modern love often works- like a marketplace of emotions.
But then, once in a lifetime,
someone arrives differently.
Not as a question.
Not as a risk to be calculated.
But as an answer.
An answer to the chaos you couldn’t
explain.
An answer to the confusion you carried quietly.
An answer to the waiting you never knew how to name.
That’s what you were.
And when you find that kind of love,
you don’t look for better.
You don’t scroll past it.
You don’t keep your options open.
You choose deeper.
People often talk about “easy
love” as if love is supposed to fit neatly into our schedules,
expectations, and comfort zones. But real love isn’t always convenient. It
disrupts. It challenges. It asks you to grow in places you’d rather ignore.
Loving you wasn’t easy.
But it was honest.
And honesty has weight. It stays.
That’s how I knew you weren’t a
choice. Because choices can be undone. Decisions change with circumstances. But
this - this stayed firm even when everything else felt uncertain.
Even when silence replaced
conversation.
Even when distance tried to rewrite the story.
Even when walking away would’ve been simpler.
This isn’t the kind of love that
announces itself loudly. It doesn’t beg. It doesn’t chase. It doesn’t perform
for validation.
It waits.
It remains.
It chooses.
Quiet love is often misunderstood.
People mistake it for indifference, when in reality, it’s restraint. It’s the
decision to hold something sacred instead of exposing it to noise.
I may never tell you all of this
directly.
But that doesn’t make it any less real.
Because love doesn’t need witnesses to exist.
Some people spend their lives
searching - for better chemistry, better timing, better circumstances. But when
someone becomes the answer, the search ends.
Not because they’re perfect.
But because they’re true.
You didn’t fix everything.
You didn’t erase the past.
You didn’t promise certainty.
But you felt right in a way that
logic couldn’t argue with.
And once you experience that kind of
love - the kind that feels like recognition rather than discovery - you don’t
want replacements. You want roots.
You choose to stay curious.
You choose to understand.
You choose depth over novelty.
This blog may read like poetry.
It may feel like a confession.
It may sound like something written late at night.
But at its core, it’s simple.
Some people are options.
Some people are lessons.
And some people - rare ones - are decisions you make with your whole being.
You were never a choice.
You were the decision I made without fear.
And if love is ever asked to define
itself...
This is how it would speak.
