There are days I do not want to love you. It is so much work, often obligatory. There are days I forget to love you. They are not as many as the days that I do not feel like loving you, the days when making time for you and putting myself aside, seem like ceaseless thankless struggles. There are days I have to remind myself of you, of how you make me feel, of how much you have given me and been there for me, of the fact that you have feelings too, and of your hopes for us. It is hard, being half-heartless and with a greyed conscience like this. Is that cold? Am I being mean? Maybe. I should say I am surprised by your coolness. I am not. I have been here before, with others, and I am still here, even with those who have known me for longer than you have. It is my continual struggle, this perpetual search for balance. Someone always ends up getting hurt. I know I do. I hold a knife and I occasionally knick myself. This is hard for me too, but I am used to it, the walking on thorns and eggshells alternately, and sometimes at the same time. I hope you never have to get here, to such a cold place.