Now, I'm no professional of the mind, although I'd like to think I know people.  I can decode people's personalities, understand their reactions.  I can't tell you apart from the bleakest gray walls or the plainest wooden doors.  You are a gray area; an unknown.  Never before had I ever met anyone like you.  The indescribableness is simply…indescribable.  You baffle me with your mind-blowing sentiments that are always meant to be so simple.  I cannot, no matter how hard I try, ever understand you.

Do you even like me?  Do you even want to listen to a single word that comes out of my mouth?  I wonder.  Sometimes I'm not so sure that you really want to even know me or even care about what I think or feel or hope or dream!  I don't understand you.  I don't know where you come from; who you are.  I can't see through the deep penetrating mask that is your soul.  I can't begin to fathom what you think or feel or believe.  I know more about you than anyone ever could.  I feel I know more about you than you know yourself.  But I really don't.  I don't know anything.  Only you lock the door, only you hold the key.  And I can never go inside.  Never crawl inside that gaping crevice that is you.

But I know there are others like you.  Like aliens or anomalies, maybe.  Only a few, but others.  They must understand you.  They must know the reasons for your logical madness.  It doesn't make any sense.  The one inconstant is the source for all of my angst, my worry, my doubt.  I do not believe I will ever understand, and I will torture myself for unending eternity.  There.  Something you would say when you're feeling melodramatic; or so I believe.  Do you even own that emotion?  I don't know.  It seems to permeate your consciousness, but how can I be sure that's what it is?  I don't know you.

I need just to give it all up.  I want to, but it doesn't seem like I can.  Maybe it's the hatred of judgment that makes you how you are.  Would you know?  It's not like I can ask you.  I guess it's beautiful and simple, really.  But obviously not simple enough for me.  I need to let go.  Just forget the musings and the wonderings, and the frustration.  Forget everything you've shown me, everything you've said and done.  But then I'd be leaving behind all the lessons, and all the things I've learned through you.  I like to think of it like that.  That I'm learning through you.  'Cause I know you sure as hell aren't trying to teach me.  It's as if your knowledge is locked up, kept only for yourself.  Maybe it's like that on purpose.  Maybe you're just afraid.  Afraid of something deep inside.  Something you don't want to ever release.  Someday it will come out.  Or not.  There's always that fifty-fifty chance with you.  But then why do I have to suffer along with you?  Do you realize you are dragging me into it?  Or am I doing this to myself?  Do you want me to be doing this; questioning myself?  Or do you just really want everything to be simple and quiet.  That's what it seems like on the outside but underneath…well, I've gone through that.  It's funny that you're doing the exact opposite.  Do you know you're ironic?  You're evoking all these emotions in me without even trying.  'Trying'.  Do you ever 'try'?  With people, I mean.  You're so good at everything else.  Now, there's my bitterness coming through.

Are you just pulling the world into your battles with demons?  Are there demons?  Tell me something, dammit!  Give me something to comprehend!  Something in my language!  You're on another plane of existence, another dimension.  Christ!  What is it about you???