I was thinking today about how I feel about you. You seem to be afraid of my feelings for you more and more, just as I think I'm beginning to handle my feelings for you better and better. At first, when I first found out that I liked you, it was so overwhelming that I could have burst. Fear swept over me like a monsoon and wiped out all the things I knew how to do around you. I became flustered when you seemed angry, I became dumb when you asked me things. My brain knew not what to do.

Now, I know that I should dampen it down when I see you even though I still get so happy that I feel I will burst. This is from me knowing that it's so much more worth it to stick around as your friend then to fumble around as someone who likes you. I know that now, but I don't think you do. I'm not sure why but I feel like you are just starting to get the scope and magnitude of my feelings for you. I felt like I've made it clear, but I suppose not. It seems you're more afraid now than you were before of my feelings for you. I'm not sure why it's so intimidating or upsetting. Have I not the right to like you?

You asked me if it tormented me to be around you. I've talked about this before, but it seems nowadays you've managed to make it more tormenting. Was it my outburst that night when I couldn't contain myself? I'm not sure if I hurt your feelings or if I made you angry. Perhaps it was a combination of both. What I screamed that night wasn't a display of my anger toward you. It was simply my anger at my inability to do anything about what was happening in front of me. There was this weird sense of helplessness where I didn't know where I could go. I was in my own room at my own apartment. Where else could I go but out? I couldn't go anywhere too far in my state of mind then. I didn't know what else to do to ignore it when I've been trying a million and one things to ignore it before I just decided to wash it down with something--anything that could close my eyes and rest my brain.

No matter how much I had, I saw it. I saw you walk past me to the bathroom and come back out to resume yourself. I washed it down some more. My vision started to blur and it made me extremely happy, until the inside of my eyelids betrayed me. It's so hard to take when it's inside your brain. At that point, I hated everything. I hated encouraging you to do what you did. I hated encouraging him to do what he did. I hate thinking that I would be ok enough to see it. I hate that I didn't foresee or plan for this. There was so much panic and hurt and anger at everything that I couldn't contain myself. I remember sobbing uncontrollably. I remember what I said. I remember every bit of that feeling now.

But what can I do?

It felt overwhelmingly like my fault. Afterward, I remember him being annoyed at me for interrupting. Ah. I remember thinking. How dare you? How dare you tell me that? The audacity. The only saving grace for him was when I realized that he's now in my boat. Funny. If it wasn't for the fact that my body hated me that day, I would've tried to wash it down some more that night. And why not?! I could still see it. I could still feel it. It was overwhelming. I talked to my guy/girl-talk combo and it took so much to keep it together. They knew. They sensed my complete breakdown and disappointment and the sweet guy just offered to take me away. They'll steal me from you, they thought. They'll take me to his house so I can play with his dogs, eat with his family and forget about you. He thought I was absolutely nuts for planning to spend hours upon hours with you the next day. She just gave up on me because she could not understand.

Honestly, I couldn't understand it either. I just wanted to be around you. What was disappointing about that weekend was that it was the start of you feeling the exact opposite. You didn't want to be around me, around us anymore. I'm not sure if that was self-preservation or me-preservation, but it didn't feel like anything but bad to me. At that point, I thought I should tell you how I feel. I should let it all out. I don't know what else to do but to poor it all out for you to see. I was hoping you'd see for yourself that what I felt about you hadn't changed and that you shouldn't change either. But in the coming week, I think you did change. You told me a few times it had changed. You want to avoid me. I couldn't understand it.

I should be the one wanting to avoid you. I should be the one that's hurt beyond all reason. I should have done what The Couple told me to do and run away. I didn't. I was proud for being so brave.

Then I just felt like an idiot. "How could I have thought she'd be ok with this?"; "How could I have made myself believe this didn't change anything?"; "What an idiot."

I wholeheartedly believed that talking to you would help. Perhaps if I could...I don't know what I was going to do. I think I ended up splaying myself out on that table for you to see and you saw *something* that you didn't want to see. Ah...I felt so stupid afterward when I realize I might've made it worse.

Now I'm not sure what I feel anymore. Still some disappointment, still some anger. Disappointed that you can't claw through the situation like I'm having to fight tooth and nail and angry that I am disappointed.

Tell me what you want to make it normal again. I want it to be normal. I'll forget it. I'll stop seeing it. I'll stop feeling it. I'll stop remembering it. Whatever it takes for you to feel comfortable.