Am I afraid?
Does my mind know something
That I do not?

Am I emulating your reservations?
Or do I feel so comfortable
I'm afraid I'll never leave?

Or am I just your best friend,
For ever and ever,
With nothing to gain but mistakes and heartaches?

Does love make a mistake? Did she err when she led Samson to Delilah? Was it a mistake when love pushed God to create Eve for Adam?

I pose these questions but not necessarily expecting to find an answer or answers. They are merely things that play in my mind every time she displays that 'I don't care about you' attitude at me. And this can come at any given time, even in moments when I expect her to be extra caring.

Yes, she is my friend, who just happens to be special to me, even beyond the description of the word.

Yes, there is this burning emotion that I'm feeling for her, so intense that it can no longer be extinguishedeven if I want to.

But she does not know that. She may have felt it somehow, but perhaps, thought it best to simply brush it off. Which is understandable, considering that I don't really fit into her description of her ideal man. I have seen her taste for men and I know that I can never be more than a friend to her.

Yet, there are moments when I could sense that there may be more to this than just mere friendship. Or is it just the hopeless romantic in me that leads me to believe that friendship is a constantly evolving process, that falling in love is but a natural consequence for two people who initially found friendship in one another?

Yes, this is nonsense, and I am insane. Only a fool like me would believe that there is a very thin line existing between friendship and love, and that crossing over from one point to the other is but a natural course of events.

But there is no such line, there can only be friendship and nothing more. If you even attempt to imagine otherwise, then you may just find yourself treading the road to heartache, a road that is not entirely unfamiliar to me.

And yet, I may have unfortunately and prematurely crossed that supposedly non-existent line. Even stranger and perhaps sadder is the thought that she may not have crossed the same line, and may never do so even after I have crossed over to the after life.

So, going back to my question: Does love make a mistake? Yes, many times, but only in my particular case.

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