To fall in love is to allow yourself to fall into a deep, dark hole.
You don't know what awaits you at the bottom.

You could get hurt on your way down - scraping yourself against the walls; getting bruises and cuts on your body, hands and feet. There's the possibility of dying from the impact; landing on jagged rocks after what feels like an infinity of waiting in pitch black darkness.

Or you find yourself free-falling, enjoying every bit of your journey down. You might land on soft fluffy cotton. Better yet, a bed of roses - without the thorns. And for once, you'd thank yourself for being so reckless when you couldn't see what was coming.

And right now, here I am before the gamble - the entrance of that hole. I feel myself tipping towards it, but I fear what awaits at the end. That's the thing about you - it's always one extreme or the other; there is no in between. I either survive, or I don't. And you know what? You're still that risk I'm willing to take.