You want to marry him, have his babies.

What?

[ So this is love, under the black light, confusion, ice cold misunderstand and months of ignorance. ]

You told him you loved him.

Yes, but I do not think it means what you think it means.

Men, they do this thing with their faces when confronted with an idea they cannot comprehend, or are confused by: they contort their faces into a wrinkled mess of twisted flesh that says “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” “what are you doing!” “please speak normally.”

[ deep breath ]

Haven’t you ever cared strongly enough about someone that you open yourselves to them in a way that denotes loving them? Maybe without obligation of return of that love?

No.

Not even your friends?

No. Not even them.

So you don’t love your frie…

No.

[ This makes sense. Explains why the inner pieces of my world outright reject those of yours. Because they detect that this process is close to impossible for you. That you cannot or care to not venture to the plains of love, not even for friendship, is a place foreign and strange for me, if only because parts of me live and breathe there. In love, for love, with love. ]

[ This place is nothing with out it. We are the same, nothing without it. Love. ]

So…you don’t want to marry him, have his babies?

No. I care about him, I love him as a friend, but not in that “procreation” kind of way.

Oh. Ok.

….can things just go back to being normal again?