Couple of days after ....

... and a looong talk after ...
I flipped.
I cried.
I tried to explain my feelings.
I didn't quite succeed.
You see ... well ... I got carried away. Yes. That happens to me from time to time.
Alcohol is very helpful at that.
My emotions were ... well ... overwhelming. To say the least.
Poor him. Yes, he cares for me. But as a friend. And he doesn't want to loose me. As a friend.
He keeps asking me, how can he help me.
Well ... I do have some ideas. But it really takes two to do that. And, frankly, the ideas are not in a friendly zone. Hence, I don't know how he can help me.
All the talking and all the feeling.
I am too much for him to handle, at least now.
I have too high expectations for and about him. It's like I don't see him the way he is. 
Oh, I do see him. Every bit of him. I guess I forgot to ask him, why does he still cares about my opinion and everything, if I have so different picture of him, expectations and stuff.
Well, we'll just leave this for some other time. Some other talk.
Now, I'll just go and meditate this pain away. 
There really is something going on in this world this year.
All the changes, all the pain, all the memories. It's getting quite challenging to live, to move forward, at least for me.
And then comes he, with his blue eyes and naughty grim and he takes me by the hand and we cross the street at the red light. Oh how I hate doing that. And how I love doing that with him.