I fell in love with a girl.
She made me feel like I wasn't alone anymore.
But I am. I was and I am and I always will be.
We did the dance all men and women do. We flirted.
We talked. We had these incredibly intense converations.
About life. About music, literature, philosophy, art.
We shared deep secrets.
I told this girl things even my best friends don't know.
And finally, one day, I told her how I feel. That I loved her.
It was not an easy thing to do.
I summoned all the courage I had just to be able to do it.
I even had to borrow some courage from my neighbor.
(I still haven't returned it.)
"I just want to be friends," she told me.
I wanted to kill myself. I almost did.
But not having any courage left meant I was now a coward.
So I didn't. Obviously.
Weeks went by. Finally, we spoke again.
Slowly, I became less and less distraught.
I had even come around to the idea of being friends with her.
Now I realize that that is impossible.
Today, she asked me for advice about another man.
And again, I want to kill myself.
And I've had more than enough time to build my courage back up.