April 3, 2012 (person)
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[March 28, 2012[by RedOmega]|Day 7815] | Day 7821 | [April 21, 2012[by RedOmega]|Day 7840]
We'd met each other at least half a dozen times over the years but it had never stuck. A chance meeting outside a class or a few minutes spent making small talk, a friend-of-a-friend sorta thing. For some reason this was different, maybe it was just the right time. A warm September night spent idle on the [Front porch, what should have been said|porch] in the relaxed drowse of alcohol and darkness. The world awash in the sodium yellows of streetlights and flushed with brake light red. Two people in the [Lagrangian Point|orbit] of the same group of friends but [Trojan asteroids|never interacting], maybe we just entered each other's lives at precisely the right moment. It was an instant, inexplicable trust. We'd sit on the couch, two near-strangers [The lonely ones will find each other by the heat of their bodies|leaning] into each other [Comfortable to the point of obscenity|comfortably]. Holding beer bottles in one hand while our other hands idly rested on a shoulder, a leg, a hand. Neither of us looking for [just to have some human contact|anything] beyond that. Simple, non-sexual, easy.
"I have [The pretty girl has no friends[by secondchances]|no friends]," she told me once. "I don't get along with other women and all the men I talk to want to date or fuck me within a month." [A man who never sees a pretty girl without loving her a little|I didn't blame them]. Voluptuous Greek curves that begged to be [Breasts, unbound, moving like oiled balloons|touched]—begged for fingertips to trace along them with the slightest pressure in the same way one would feel along the edge of a knife. An elegantly mature face that looked better with [girls with glasses|glasses] and without makeup, [Nobody chooses apples with bruises|scar] running along the corner of her mouth. Female but [Only slightly a geek girl|not] a girly one, feminine in the way that girls who play in the mud always are. Witty, warm, and refreshingly direct; the person who finally [January 21, 2012[by RedOmega]|convinced] me that others genuinely cared for me as a person, not just as [Confessions of a joker|an entertainer]. And flawed, [I like you. Now let me tell you all my flaws.|beautifully flawed]. The [Falling in love with your best friend|best friend] I wasn't looking for but found anyway.
She saved me from myself, willing to listen to me ramble about my depression [Hello, I take Zoloft. I am so gloriously mentally ill! You will love me, yes?|without judgement]. Willing to talk too (so unlike [Falling out of love with your best friend|Emily]); about her own life, her worries and hopes, her weaknesses and anxieties. She was the reason I decided to try to get [February 22, 2012[by RedOmega]|better] again after I had failed so many times before. At a time when I had all but given up on life she came into it at almost the last moment and gave me a purpose, even if making her happy is only a shallow and transient one.
"Are you in love with me?"
She looked around the room—the [How do you know when someone's your best friend?|best friend] I've ever had—her brown eyes nervously avoiding me as she waited for my reply. I managed to smile reassuringly even as my [Update, 28 April: We still miss kissing|heart] seized. God damn, don't ask me that. I knew that she needed a friend, a true friend, more than anything else; not just another awkward relationship fueled by unrequited feelings. And I wanted more than anything to be her friend and nothing else, to be rid of the complicated affection I felt for her. Torturous in a way that was either very adult or hopelessly [It was hormones, it was hormones, but it was valid|adolescent]. I knew what the right answer was—what my answer had to be—and I knew that she'd never really trust me if I told her that the truth was much [People wouldn't fall in love so often if it were more clearly marked|more nuanced] than a [You've been slowly taking me over for nearly a year, do you know that?|simple] yes or no. "No," I said.