My heart aches. Now, I understand that the phrase is used quite often, whether it be in romantic comedies, romance books, yatta, blah, but this is different, I swear. I love you to the point where my body is hurting itself. It feels like there is a civil war conquering my body, my mind, my emotions. My everything (another cliched line) depends on you. You were my friend.
I guess that you are my friend, but nothing has been the same since the night I shared sacred moments with. It felt, when it happened, like we were different people, because there was no possible way that the two of us could’ve created such an intense picture and feeling. Insecurities were a thing of the past at that time. I felt only what you felt. I was not ashamed of my body, of my smile, of my passion. You were like instant confidence, kind of like instant mashed potatoes, without all the trouble, but now, it seems like I can’t even talk to you anymore. Sixteen years of friendship, flushed down the toliet because we got lonely? No.