Something I wrote while trying to sleep.

“Oi, are you ok?” I am almost at loath to wake her from her daylight musings.
“Hmm...What? Sorry?"
“You look kind of out of it, kind of down.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just boy troubles, you know.”
But I didn’t know, this was the underlying issue. She’d been dating since forever. I hadn’t even dated once.
“Need me to floor anyone?”
“Ha-ha, nah. It’s ok.”
“You sure? I mean I can totally do it you know.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of, you know. Can I just talk to you about it?”
“Right, where does he live and who is he?”

If looks could kill, I’d be dead – and she’d be a confidant down – not that I’d mind, this girl is stunning even when she’s glaring in your direction, she takes 'breath taking' to a whole new level.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“Your hopeless you know. You think just like a bloke.”
“Well duh! I grew up thinking I was a boy...”
“Point taken. I forget sometimes, you’re like that in some respects. Forgettable.” She doesn't really mean it. I can see it in her eyes.
“Ha-ha, ouch!”
“Sorry. But in all seriousness, I’m not sure what I think – or feel – anymore. He says he loves me. But the first opportunity he gets he’s all cosy with some other chick. I mean I caught him in the act yesterday! He was like; ‘She’s just a friend’, but he was locking lips with her on my couch! In my apartment! How stupid does he think I am?”
“Dump him.”
“But I love him.”
“He’s scum.” This was probably a little unsympathetic of me.
“He said…”
“I rephrase that, he’s lying scum.”
“What would you know? You’ve never even dated before!”
“And? I can still spot a lying cheating bastard.”
“What if he was your girlfriend?”
“She’d be out of my life in an instant.”
“Really? What if you loved her more than anything?”
“She’d be out of my life in an instant. My heart would be shattered, my self esteem in tatters, but I’m insecure about that sort of thing. If I caught her with someone else, I’d be devastated. The best thing you can do now is dump him, get him out of your life, clear the air and start over with someone who actually deserves you. But of course I haven’t been through this, as you pointed out.” I might sound slightly bitter now. But I'm more frustrated than anything else.

“Have you ever been in love? Do you know what this feels like?” She’s sobbing now – it’s all I can do to hold back, not to reach out and hold her till she’d finished crying, not to offer her a physical sympathy, and my ironic empathy. Not to break down and confess to her how I feel.
“Yes, I’ve been in love. I still am.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, but she’s not interested. She has a partner.”
“Oh, sorry. Guess I didn’t realise.”
“Meh-don’t worry. It obviously wasn’t meant to be.”
“Don’t say that!”
“Hey, who is this about, you or me?”
“Oh god, I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. We’ve been dating for years now, and she’s been around for at least half that time. I can’t believe I was so stupid!” She’s really going for it now. I cave in, stand up and pull her to me. Smoothing dark hair from her face, brushing aside tears and after a few moments hesitation I summon the courage to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. After a quick squeeze I hold her at arm’s length and look in her crystal blue eyes.
“Love is blind, you fool! Why else would you stick with that looser for so long? It sinks its bittersweet hook into you without warning, and unless the other person is hit by the same lure, you’ve got nothing to do but rip it out yourself. Else-wise it’ll destroy you! Sure it’ll sting and smart every time you see him on the street, but it’ll hurt you more in the long run if you don’t get rid of the prick. I’m sorry to say this, he’s just using you.”

She is silent for a moment. Her face twists, once, twice, three times, her arm rises up to hit me. It falls to her side and a look of utter resignation spreads in an icy mask.
“I know.”
“I could floor him for you.”
“Nah – don’t bother, he’s not worth the effort.”
I give her another reassuring hug as she brushes the remnants tears from her face. Begrudgingly I let her go, hating myself for longing to take advantage of her current state.
“I’ve been a bit blunt. I’ve made you cry again.”
“Yeah.” Her laugh is musical, slightly embarrassed.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I needed it, I know he’s a jerk, he’s history.” Her eyes are resolute now.
“I love you.”
“I know”

As she retreats down the hallway, elegant and poised, I wonder if she understands just how deep my love for her really is, and if she does, does it freak her out because no matter how much I wish I wasn’t, I am a girl too?