"A good relationship is like fireworks. loud, explosive and liable to maim you if you hold on for too long."


I'm not what everyone thinks I am. Just because I dress to get attention doesn't make me a slut. Just because I know everyone doesn't mean I have a million friends. Just because I play stupid doesn't mean I am. Just because most of my friends are in bands doesn't make me a groupie. Just because I prefer the company of guys doesn't mean I'm hooking up with all - or any - of them.
And just because I dated someone else doesn't mean I'm over you.

I've got a pretty level head on my shoulders. Sure, I have moments of mania, but then again, who doesn't? The only thing I can't think of clearly is whatever we are. Because we're technically nothing. We're friends. Of course. But technically, we haven't been any more than that since last year. Over a year ago. Yet, every time I'm near you, I still can't help but feel like that's not true. Every time I'm near you and I once again go from hyperventilating out of sheer panic to comfortable because I'm near you, I know it's not true. This summer, when we were talking and you looked at me and said, "And because I loved you...and why am I using past tense..?" (Did you really think I would ever forget those words?), I knew it wasn't true. That day I came to hang out with you at your house, and I fell asleep laying close to you, when I hadn't slept for more than fifteen minutes straight in a month.
Last night when we were standing next to each other, both of us casually moving to the music, your hand kept touching mine. That's not something you notice unless it sends shockwaves through your entire body. And I promise you, it was.
Every time you complain about how you've got ten more pounds to lose, I want to get mad at you. Because I don't think you need to lose anything. I think you look great now. I've always thought you looked great. I just wish you could see it.
And little things you do...it kills me. Like when you said, "I don't need people asking questions," when it came to us hanging out...why does it matter who asks what? When you delete comments I leave you. Why? It's obvious within fourteen seconds of meeting me how I feel about you. Everyone knows it. Why bother trying to hide that from your friends? Who cares about questions? People question me all the time and I usually say the same thing: "Honestly, I still have no idea why we broke up. Over a year later, I'm still clueless. And yeah, I dated somebody else, but it was in hopes of getting over him. As we can see, that worked just great. I'd have him back in a minute if he'd have me. After this long, I've kind of given up on finding anything other than a distraction from him." 

So I guess I'm just curious. I'm curious why we talk on the phone at least 3 or 4 times a day, why you're always the last person I talk to before bed, why you're always the first person I text in the morning, why when anything is wrong or right, you're always my first call (as you said was true of me as well),  why I'm not comfortable around anyone but you, why everything might not be right when you're around, but it's undeniably better....why, in spite of all of the obvious, I'm still sitting here, almost  3 1/2 years to the day from when we met, wondering why.
I know we're not perfect. I don't believe in happily ever after.
But I do believe in happy every time I pass that house on Guilden Street.
That was the first place I ever felt at home. It took a long time for me to figure out it wasn't the house.

And sadly, I just found a comic that makes....far too much sense.



Right down to the sarcasm at the situation.