How long has it been going on, you ask? Since last Thursday. Yes, I know, I know: how can my feelings be so certain, so strong after such a short time? Sometimes you just know. There is simply no explanation beyond that: I just know.
No, I'm not breaking up with you. Not really. I mean, I suppose it's up to you to decide: do you still want me if you know my heart is divided (more or less equally, I swear) between you and another? Is affection necessarily diminished because it is split in two?
You haven't done anything wrong. It's not y-- Ouch! No, sorry, I won't say that. Fuck, man. Don't hit me. When did you start hitting? Jesus.
Just say it? You want to hear me say the words? Are you going to hit me again? Promise? Alright, fine, I will: I'm writing for another website.
There -- are you happy? Do you feel better? You kind of look like you want to punch me in the throat. No? Good.
A name? You want a name? Look, come on, this is . . . it's not helping.
The Nervous Breakdown. Okay? I said it. The other site is called The Nervous Breakdown.
Don't cry. Come on, don't.
Look, I didn't plan on this. I didn't make it happen. It just sort of . . . happened.
Peaches introduced us. Look, he didn't know either. He just thought we'd dig each other but, you know, not like that. He didn't know. Okay, that's a lie: he totally knew what he was doing. Of course he doesn't hate you. He loves you, too. He just wants us both to be happy.
Of course I still love you.
No, I don't want to leave you.
We can make this work.
How? I don't know. You'll just have to trust me.
Nothing's ending. It's just becoming something other than it was. Something better. Something more. In my beat-up little heart I truly believe that.
Of course I'll hold you. Come here. Just put your head right there on my chest. Close your eyes. Shhh. See? This is good, right?
Oh yeah, one other thing: I'm gay.
I am so not gay. But wouldn't that have been funny?