I used to think that maybe I was holding back my feelings for Simon as some sort of self-defence. Like, to protect myself from the pain of losing him, the pain of maybe losing everything—because, if Simon goes, what hope do any of us have?
(What hope /do/ we have? Simon isn’t the solution to our problems; he’s just a stay of execution.)
But it isn’t that—it isn’t self-defence.
I just don’t love Simon enough.
I don’t love him the right way.
Maybe I don’t have that sort of love in me—maybe I’m defective.

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