September 9, 2017:
I know these feelings.
But they don't make sense.
I've been in love.
It's like that, but without the desperation.
I've had many crushes.
It's like that, but it's lasted months.
I've loved friends like sisters.
It's like that, but I don't want to kiss them, and I do want to kiss you.
I want to protect you.
I've never had that need before.
I suppose it's paternal, though I wouldn't know.
To me you're the most beautiful woman in the world.
You're jaw-droopingly, heart-stoppingly lovely.
There are times when I drift away from the present, lost in mute hypnosis: She's so beautiful. She's so beautiful.
I feel I understand you.
More than the rest, that's what seems important.
I've experienced that once before, and I loved her for twenty years.
Does it have to make sense?