What else can I tell you, than that I'm sorry, desculpe, and whatever the french word for it was. oh yes, Je suis désolé I was so afraid this would happen from the start. That we both got hurt, while we like each other. Do I even? I wouldn't even know. I've been lied to by my own feelings that I can't even tell. I've told you so many times, tried to give you a look into my brain so you might at least understand and yet you still like me. You are the sweetest person I know. So caring and yet it hurts to speak to you because I know we can't be together. Maybe not even if you were closer. Because of who I am. I wish I could change, for you, for myself. You tell me how amazing I am but every time you say that I feel more broken. because I know I am not. I know where I come from. That what apparently makes me amazing, is also what has broken me on the inside. It's all a lie. I am a lie. My niceness is just because I hope you don't...