Love isn't a choice.
You don't get the option to feel it or not.
You don't get to decide when it happens.
Love comes when it does, with no regard to your plans or situation.
Love is never convenient.

You can try to ignore it, but it won't work for long.
You can try to hold it back, but it will make itself known.
You can do your best to lock it away, far behind a wall of your own construct, but it will eventually find the cracks and make a drunken Jenga round of it.
There's no point fearing it.
There's no point challenging it.
It will bring unbelievable happiness, and it will bring unbelievable pain.
To interfere will only result in one of those.

Love is a vehicle. You're a passenger, willing or not. The destination is unknown, and you have no control.
The steering wheel rarely works, and when it does it's only to avoid a fork in the road leading to a cliff.
And even then, your efforts may result in a minimal disruption in course.

Love is a gift.
It's not to be squandered.
It's not to be pushed away.
It's to be embraced, and lived.
Damn the consequences.
Damn the logic.
Damn the pain.

Damn.