I hate love. I hate it, despise it. Which is such an oxy-moronical statement. The one man that, right now, I would willingly spend the entirety of my life with, is, of course, in love with someone else. And I feel as if I hurled myself off a cliff just by meeting him. Let alone remembering everything about him all the fucking time. And why is it
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I will -always- be there for you. You're one of the best friends I've ever had, you think I'd just fucking dump that all over the place? FUCK no. I'm me and you're part of the pack. An individually important and significant member of that pack, and don't you ever forget it.
I will -always- be there for you. If you fell into the hospital, I'd do whatever it took to show up in Dallas and visit you. Make sure you're okay. I can and will do whatever it takes to make sure you're alright. I'm not going back on what I said. I do love you. Love never really dies. It can become platonic, but it never really dies. Fucked up as it is, it happens... the nature of emotional interlock is astoundingly frustrating at times. Trust me, I know. I've been through the whole kit and cabootle.
I will -always- be there for you.
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