• I've figured it out. The root of our problem. And, to my immense surprise, it's not you. The problem is that talking to you is like a running a race. You know what I mean. We go faster, faster, faster. Arguing and competing to make each other laugh. Trying to get there first. It makes a person feel exuasted, gasping for breath. And I, being who I am, misenterpretted that breathless feeling for affection or something like the mythical symptoms of love. You see? In reality it was just the race, nothing more. Did you figure it out before I did? Or did you always know?

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