I am inept when it comes to romance. I am a dork, a tomboy, a goofball. But I make you laugh. You told me that after spending time with me, it was hard to spend time with anyone else. You put your hand around my waist and walked by my side. You sent me fleeting looks across the room meant for nobody else but me, cracking a mischievous smile. But when I told you that I loved you, you told me that you could never see me like that. So I left for a year, traveled the world, crossed the globe, and tried to get over you. Now we are back together again, best friends. But you are dating someone else, and you love her the way I wish you loved me. You hold me in front of her, hugging me forever, cuddling with your head on my shoulder. You come to me when you are anxious and ask me to help calm your nerves. “Keep me calm,” you say, “Today I am meeting her family.” So I make you laugh, and you shoot me that mischievous grin, and tell me that you don’t want to go. I don’t want you to go either. Stay with me. But you leave, and love her, and I am still broken.