Can you get the plague from loving someone "too much"?

We become accustom to certain things in our lives that when they are gone, it feels as though the world might collapse, or at least it’s a ditch in the road where we might feel a little bit helpless.

Sleeping next to him made me realize the comfort that he brings me from his presence. And I chastise myself for having these feelings about him. I get so angry at myself. I feel as though I am torturing myself by having these feelings. Because these feelings will never be returned, but some how that is okay with me, and I hate that. It’s this unconditional love that says, “Even though you do not love me, I will love you for every imperfection, every thing you say and the things you don’t say.”

Love truly is blind and it makes me sick.

But then I think, is it really that pointless for me to feel the way I do about him? I am almost positively sure that it is. But some how cannot stop, even against my better judgments. This, I feel, makes me weak because I cannot resist the power of comfort.

I remember laying there the other night wrapped in the blankets, his mouth near my ear, his arms around me, and one hand rubbing my side. The comfort he brought me, by just being there. How his touch soothed me as I laid curled up; listening to each inhale and exhale, feeling the warm of this breath against my neck and ear, thinking to myself, I could do this everyday. If I could wake up like this, how much better my life would feel. Does he feel the same?

So why did he call me that night? He’s never just called me out of the blue. The hopeful side of me thinks, maybe he likes me more than he lets me know, would it even be possible for this to be true?

“But we both know the worst part about it, is I would be free if you wanted me, if you wanted me…”

He wrote the words that would pierce me with claw-like precision.