I probably never will.

I don't know why I chase you. I probably never will. You're always just a little out of reach, a little too far. There enough to call me, tempt me, but gone enough I'll never get you back. I feel like a dog chasing a car, but I'm only running at fifteen miles an hour and you're still going twenty.

I don't know why I love you. I probably never will. But I know that every time I see your face, mine mirrors yours because your smile makes me happy, and sometimes it's the only thing that does. I know that every time I hear your voice from 642 miles away, I'm torn between feeling heartsick and feeling joy because I wish I could hear your voice next to me right then, with me right here, but I'm so happy you're talking to me and listening to me that nothing else dealt matters.

I don't know why you put up with me. I probably never will. As many times as we've said, "That's it, we're done, it's over." I can never mean it in my heart, even if I fool myself for a while. I keep coming back to you. I don't know what kind of person that makes me, ripping emotions out of you every time you turn around because whether I admit it or not, and until recently I tried really hard for "not", every time you look at me I know you see the broken me that can't stop loving you. Maybe it's hidden behind how we joke around, dancing and laughing and crying with how stupidly funny that joke you just told was, but its there and I know you see it.

I don't know if I'd rather you love me that way or if you didn't. I probably never will. But I do know that as much as I scream and cry about it at night when I'm alone and no one can hear me, I'll never ask you. I'll never be able to go to you and tell you to pick me. To pick me because I love you and I need you more than she does. To pick me because maybe I'd hurt you like she has, but at least I wouldn't mean to. At least I wouldn't try to. At least I would care about what I'd done afterwards. I could never make you choose because it would kill you and I'm to weak to do that, to stand up and try to take what I want. I'd kill myself falling back down. If I faced the truth I'd know I'll never get it anyway, but I'm happier, if I still knew the meaning of the word, letting it fester because in some way, I have you. And you need me, even if it's just to rant about the girl you can't take your eyes off of. She's beautiful to you, and I get that, I do. I just wish it were different.

I don't know what it would be like if you did pick me. I probably never will. Would you want me for me, or would I be a pity case and you just want me off your back? You've done it before, been with me just because you were afraid of hurting me. I don't want that, but I don't know that I'd be able to realize it, to recognize it. I'd be too far gone to care by then. If I did, I wouldn't stop you, if I'm honest with myself. I'd take what I got with you, one more kiss, one more touch, one more chance to have you hold me and fall asleep in your arms. And even if I knew it was a lie, I'd take it anyway because sweet lies are better than bitter truths sometimes. You know that as well as I do. The last time we kissed, and you walked away, I told myself it was the final time. We were sitting on that gardening chest beside my driveway and you pulled me down to your chest and you kissed me with more passion than you ever had, and you held me close and you whispered that you loved me into my hair. And we laid there a while, and never said a word, and you just held me and it was perfect. I thought we'd make it.

I don't know why I've never learned. I probably never will. I was stupid, I've tried to learn since then that nothing lasts like that, like it should. I spend my life waiting for the other shoe to drop, and people say that's a bad thing, but hell. When you learn to live that way it doesn't make much difference because when you know you're going to get hurt, it doesn't hurt as bad. I don't know why I keep letting myself love you. I probably never will. It might be because i don't have another option to care about you with, for me it's always seemed to be love you or cut myself off and make us both miserable but hell, maybe you could get over it and we'd all move on with our lives but I can't do that. I worry about you every day; what kind of trouble you're going to get yourself into with those damn bikes, or the skateboards, or whatever you and the guys have decided looks fun and adventurous today. I never know right then, but I hear the stories from you later and I just want to hold you and reassure myself that you're still there and alive and mine and it only helps a little. I go to funerals and every time people are sad and crying and I try to imagine what life might be like without you and it's just black, emptiness with no end in sight, anywhere. It's pain and depression and anger and hate and fear that goes on and on forever.

I'm not myself without you and I never will be. You are my joy, my happiness and that side of my soul that still has to remind me now and then that life really is going to be okay eventually. You put your arms around me and hug me and I feel safe, for once I can believe that everything is going to turn out alright because I trust you. You wouldn't lie to me. And I'm in your arms and I feel like I'm home. You're the side of myself that has faith in the world and people and life and I can't find it. I can't find that piece of myself that can just believe that it'll be okay because in my mind, it won't. But you can, and you have, and you keep it safe as much as I try to kill it. You make me the kind of person I wish I was but will never have the courage to be.

I love you because you are both me, and you, and so much more than we could ever be if left apart and alone.

I'm still trying to figure out how that can be.