With a dirty language he mantains a dialogue with himself, almost crying his unrespectful wishes for his unrequited love. He would like to hurt those who come near to him this night, but, somehow (maybe something called miracle), that hasn't happened yet.
Jesus, he feels nothing but tenderness. Today he heard "Urequited love is awesome. It won't change nor will mature someday, and on top of all it'll never die".
So be it. It's the fucking truth, unrequited love will always be love and there's no way it would go to hell someday. It remains as a coffee stain in a white blanket, as a period in the paper. Tiny, insignificant but being an obstacle too, because it will always be there, waiting for the impossible.
Irritating.
He will always be a coward and so he will keep hurting those who love him. It can't be helped, no, actually it is him the one who doesn't want to solve it. Not now not in a while.
The only thing he's pretty sure about is that "unrequited" makes that love necessary, almost as if it was his new God. And he is fine with it.
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