It's all these choices that we could have made, the things we might have done. We see them with perfect clarity only long after the moment has passed. Just thirty seconds either way, and I wouldn't have this story to tell you. I wouldn't be the same person telling it.
I learned the difference between loving somebody, and actually being in love with them. Being in love is when you get that feeling in the pit of your stomach, the electric shock that goes through your body when they touch you, when you miss them after being apart after two minutes, when you feel completely safe in the warmth of their arms. Loving them is when it all wears off, when the reality comes into play and you're left with this busted person. When they've been with you for so long you feel obligated to love them because of those god damn butterflies you used to get. But it all went away.
She tried though. She tried only because her love was the glue that kept everything together. And without that, me and my brother would suffer. But as hard as she would try, the things he did still lingered in the back of her mind and it was too unbearable. Pain or Freedom? In the end, all of us got both.