For a long time I thought it was about him. About the way he laughed, the way he talked, the way he looked at me across a table that wasn't ours.
It took me a while to ask a different question. Not whether I wanted him. Whether I'd want him even without the thing that made him unreachable.
I tried to picture it. No obstacle. No secret, no stolen hours, no feeling that I had to fight for it. Just him, ordinary, every day.
And suddenly there was nothing there.
It was never about him. It was about the wall between us. I took the wall for proof that something mattered, and it was just a wall.
Since then I ask myself that question before I let myself fall for anyone. Would I want you if I could actually have you? When I don't know the answer, at least I know I'm not sure who I really want.