THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
I'm only attracted to people in crises. Twice in six months has got to be a record.
I could try to pin point what it is, but I don't know if I could. You listen. This is unique to you, I think. You also ask questions. Dig at me, even, for me truth. And I can watch you when I'm talking, deciding to hold back what you're thinking from your usual honesty. I consider this an act of kindness. I don't doubt the damage you could do.
You hold back the truth when we speak- although you reveal more than you think- but demand it of me. You point out that I smile too much for someone who finds most people so unbearable, who finds everything so depressing.
I lose hours on you and am not sure how. You ask me why I stay and I sigh. I don't know what you make of me. Usually it's easy, but sometimes, in others company, you say, look how disgusting we appear to her- you don't mean to tease. I am constant in my unlikely Catholic school reserve.
Having said all that, I don't know if my mind is made up on you. You make me uneasy. You are difficult, comfortable- in many ways, a complete opposite, in most others, exactly the same-