I don't remember why I thought I liked him. Now, with so much time elapsing every day, I don't remember. I must remind mysef of this when the next one comes and the one after that. We do survive it and then, when it is gone, we are confused. I don't remember why I liked him with that kind of breathless, sleepless passion. I don't remember why my body turned towards him like a flower. I do remember that he was there for me at times when I needed it. Not always, but on a few select occasions. I remember our shared taste in movies, our conversations about books and philosophy. I remember his ability to find me funny when I am not known for my humour.
I know about the next one. I know why I like him. I like him for his loyalty and his intelligence and most of all his care. He tries to say things that will make me feel better. Sometimes he fails. Still, he is always willing to try to keep the friendship safe and for this I love him. One day I will look at him and I will wonder what that was all about, that gnawing regret, that endless self-hate which is based merely on the fact that he will never want me in that way. The cycle is about rejection. I have learnt this. Finally I have learnt.
This time I will keep him for the things I like. This time it will not end as it has always ended, torn between what I will do and what I would want to do and smashed against the unweildy rock of what he would refuse to do if he were asked to anyway.
This time I will keep the things I want. I promise. Just wait and see.