Why Didn't I Just Walk Away? Oh

I Was An Empty Shell. Like A Vacant House―condemned―for Months I'd Been Utterly Uninhabitable. Now I Was A Little Improved. The Front Room Was In Better Repair. But That Was All―just The One Small Piece. He Deserved Better Than That―better Than A One-room, Falling-down Fixer-upper. No Amount Of Investment On His Part Could Put Me Back In Working Order.

The Worst Part Is That I Saw The Whole Thing -- Our Whole Life. And I Want It Bad, Jake, I Want It All. I Want To Stay Right Here And Never Move. I Want To Love You And Make You Happy. And I Can't, And It's Killing Me.

I Could See How Easy It Would Be To Fall Into Loving Bella. It Would Be Exactly Like Falling: Effortless. Not Letting Myself Love Her Was The Opposite Of Falling—it Was Pulling Myself Up A Cliff-face, Hand Over Hand, The Task As Grueling As If I Had No More Than Mortal Strength.

I Felt Like I Was Staring Out Across An Ocean That I Was Going To Have To Swim From Shore To Shore Before I Could Rest Again.

If There Was A Jane Austen Camp, I Would Go, No Question.