I don't get it. I really just... don't. I can't get him out of my mind. I'm so worried about him. but he won't return my texts, my IMs, or reply to either myspace contact i've sent him. I think of what I could or would say if I talked to him, and this lump rises in my throat. This perpetual ache that keeps my words down. This cold feeling fills me up from my stomach up, and it just envelops my head... and throbs. Not like a headache... just a throb. I didn't know I cared this much. In the words of Kate Winslet..." What about those of us who fall in love alone...? The victims of the one sided affair." Do I love him? Do I want to? The last times I dared to use the word "love" as a feeling, I had my heart wrenched out of my chest, frozen, shattered and then fed back to me from a silver platter. He comes across so tough and uncaring... But I knew that wasn't him. He DOESN'T know what he wants... He's giving up on love... on women. On passing on his name. I doubt he turns over in the middle of the night and reaches out his arm to someone who isn't there... the way I do. Does he dream about me? I dream the real him. He's gentle, and soft, and confused... and scared. He's so afraid. As am I. I can't get it out of my mind. I want to know he's okay. I should just call him... but what the fuck would I say? If he even answered... Would there be something in his voice that breaks me down to tears? Could I really give him any consolation? Any comfort? Does HE need a shoulder to cry on? Like I told him... the person on whose shoulder you cry on should be the same as who you rest your head on during a slow dance... If I knew what he needed... I would be there in an instant. I think I could fly there. I would be there for him to lock his arms around and collapse into if need be. He can soak my shirt with his tears... If I could, I would protect him. Like he protects me. Even if he doesn't know it... he does. I feel impenetrable when I am with him. But unlike any other person I've liked... there are no awkward silences. There are no cheeky giggles. It is just comfortable. We can make sex jokes, discuss sex, and laugh at ourselves. He can look at me and go "you're weird." and I just smile and he smiles back. I've never felt for anyone with brown eyes. Because the brown is opaque, and you can't see into them. But his are almost green some days. There is depth, and he knows how to talk through his eyes. I think about him hurting... and I feel like someone has closed their fist around my lungs. When his cousin died at Christmas, he was sitting there, crying. CRYING. In the cafeteria. He was withdrawn... he was so far within himself... I wanted to wrap my arms around him and tell him it would be okay, but something held me back. Fear? That's the only thing I could think of. Because I don't care how tough a guy may be, sometimes they just need to hold onto somebody else and cry. I keep crying when I think about it. My eyes sting and tears just leak out.. Words wrap around my mind and I can't shake his image from the backs of my eyelids. It's pathetic, really. I'm so proud of him.. So scared for him... and yet... I'm scared for myself too. "there's something sweet... and almost kind. but he was mean and he was coarse and unrefined... and now he's dear, and so unsure. I wonder why I didn't see it there before."