I need a solid answer from you. You know, like a list or something. A list of reasons why you don't want to be with me. A list of reasons why you think we're not made for each other. A list of reasons why you think it'll be a waste of time for us to go on dinner dates.
Give me a freaking list, woman. And end this silence once and for all. It's killing me. It's like I'm half way through a story and the rest of the pages have been torn away. I still know the ending, though - the last page is still there, intact in front of my eyes. I read it and I know we're not going to die in each others' arms as I would want it to happen. I know it.
I just want to hear you say it. I just want to know why. I want to know what you think about this whole mess. Or if you think about it at all.
So yeah, give me a list.
Few things have consumed me more than the obsession I've had to know more about Beth Hurley. It is hard to say why she interested me so much in the first place. She's beautiful, undoubtedly so; but so are dozens of other girls I see on a daily basis. In fact, now that I think about it, it certainly wasn't her beauty alone - it was something else. It was her simplicity, I think. It was the matter-of-factly manner in which every word that came out of her mouth was spoken. It was the way her eyes teased me, revealing just enough to rouse my curiosity, never enough to fully satisfy it. It was as though there were unspoken thoughts and abandoned feelings inside of her, both of which added many more dimensions to her beauty, and it was upon my job to find those out and make her even more beautiful than she already was.