“Romance is fleeting. Friendship is constant. I will always choose a good friend over a great boyfriend.” She shakes her head. “You’re my soul mate.” It is not the time to tell her I’m in love with her. It is not the time to tell her I want to be that hypothetical boyfriend. That she is becoming an ethereal weapon of self-destruction for me. That when I jack off, it’s to her image. That when she laughs, my chest feels funny. When she cries, I want to suck in her pain with a kiss and suffer on her behalf.
