And then there’s you, who I’ve known and loved forever. And we’ve dated, and we’ve had our downfalls and still do. But after four fucking years it’s still there, I still love kissing you, I still love being in your arms, I like poking your armpit and watching you fidget like a little kid, but I know you don’t feel the same. Sure, you love me too, and always will, and have admitted that to me, plus still find me attractive but, in reality, I just don’t know. All I know is I love you to pieces.