Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Just friends. We have to be, "just friends." Why her? Why her? Why her? I have to remind myself that we're just friends.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I think I love you. I probably love you. I don't know what to do.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. That's probably all you do with her. I wish I was lying when I said I don't think that the girl you're in love loves you back.
Honey. Sweetie. Love of mine. In less than six months you might have to open up your eyes. You're drunk on her poison and she's teetering on the top. Maybe someday you'll realize that she's not even trying to balance. She's sitting there idly, letting you hold her up on the pedestal she doesn't deserve.
She should be ashamed. Why aren't you ashamed? I am so ashamed.
I love you, even if we're only ever "just friends."