I know that you can't tell, but I originally wrote this in pen. I spend so much of my time analyzing and overthinking everything I do for fear of making the same mistakes that I fail to live in the present. What I feel at present is compelling me toward total honesty with you, but I fear what it would mean for us.

What do I feel? Right now, at this very moment?

I feel torn between the strong man that doesn't give a rat's ass if you feel half as strongly for me as I do for you, and the other man who knows this to be absurd. I know I must play this out like I'm in total control of my mental and emotional faculties, like you are not doing to me this dreadful thing of raking through my soul with your painfully delicate fingers.

The tension has always existed between us, and you and I have found our clever way to dance around it, all the while enjoying each other fully in every second. We've yet to have a single fight or even argument. We play off one another like foreign diplomats whose greatest thrill is the meeting of a stranger and we delight in the company, even if it be a stranger with questionable tastes. We don't necessarily lie, but what we don't say hangs in the air like sweet morsels that taunt us both. You want to connect to me.

Yeah, I overthink things. But so what? It is not your tits that drew me to you, nor I to you, was it? You've always kept up with me on all sorts of levels. You are fascinated by men of science and alchemy and invention and exploration. You are not turned on by brutes and dogs like so many young women our age. And I could not be stimulated for long by a girl who skates through life on her good looks alone, and cares not for intellectual endeavors and rigorous debate. It is your mind that gets me excited.

You have gotten me to probe my own soul for answers to questions I never even knew I was asking. I see the kind of dedication you have for your career, the kind of love you have for those around you, the bite you have for those who offend you and the maternal instinct you have for those you care about.

More to the point, you've made me wonder what it would be like to have a family of my own, and how I would take care of that family. You make me want to be a father, and I spend much time now thinking about the kind of father I want to be. I used to worry what my purpose might be and how I might change the world, and only now do I consider that my own child might be my answer. I was drinking a beer that was very dark when I realized this.

I used to think that a woman coming into my life for a short time and then leaving when we grow apart was a model for a full life. I have not abandoned this belief, but if ever there was a woman who made me reconsider spending my entire life with a single woman, it is you. Now I wish for a woman to protect, who will have my child and take care of us both. The kind of woman who makes me feel like being a man is something I don't just have to be, but want to be.

I can tell you care about me deeply, which is why it may break your heart to know that we cannot be friends for much longer. This is not just some friend-zone stuff, where I've gotten a case of the feelers and now I'm gettin' all weird-y-weird. I always knew that I could have just taken you out. You would have let me, too, I'm sure. We would have had a grand old time, for a while.

But I'm now suspecting that I made the right call. I take notice of the recent moments you clearly seem to be placating me. We have different enough tastes that much of the time we spend is, in fact, quite artificial. That we should continue in this manner would be horrible. The fact is there are many tendencies in your nature which repel me from the thought of a life together. Your anxiety and your materialism are no match for your meanness, of which I have fortunately been the brunt of very little. At least for now.

You see how complicated this all is. You get me all confused, and I'm dragged through the coals by your loving hands and I don't want it to end. Or maybe I do. Or maybe I don't, but I know I should.

You have gradually drifted away from artsy, intellectual men and now seem to prefer the superficial, athletic types who are destined to take advantage of a woman like you. I don't know what has happened to make you so cynical toward relationships, but do not abandon your faith. You have a good heart, and that I should stay to watch it burn would be the greatest tragedy.

Is it love that I have for you that is making me say all these things? I don't know. My mind has a tendency to fixate on vexing situations like the one between you and I, but I do not know if this is love. All I know is that it upsets me to go on pretending like we can't help each other, especially when it might mean the end of this wonderful moment in time that we've shared.

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