I fell in love. And I shouldn’t have. I knew the moment that I started feeling this way that I should stop it. Distance myself from him immediately. But I couldn’t. Because you see, love really is like a drug, as cliché as that sounds. You start off saying that its casual, it won’t be all the time. But then it consumes you and eventually you look back and wonder how you were pulled so deep into its almighty, life-ruining clutches. Even if you’re like me and you’ve been there before, you can’t pull away. No matter how hard you try. I noticed him first, when I was at work. He was such a dude. He always came in from the gym, hot and sweaty and beautiful, with a bag of food in his hands. He would slap his guy friends on the back and they’d make plans for later. Usually, he’d say hi, maybe stop for a minute to chat and then he was on his way. But sometimes, he would sit and eat while I worked. He’d talk about everything and nothing, all at the same time. But he made me smile. God, he made me smile. I didn’t realize that I loved him then. Then he started dating my friend. She would sit at my shift and tell me how wonderful he was. She’d say how he was so thoughtful, what he had texted her that day, and how good of a kisser he was. I’d smile and shake my head at her romantic antics. I’d tell myself I was happy for her, and I was. Nothing else seemed to change. Day by day, it was always, “hey, how are you? I’m good. How’re classes going?” But sometimes it was more. Sometimes, he would tell me stories about his friends, where he was from, how much he hated Josh Hutcherson. But he made me laugh. God, he made me laugh. I didn’t realize I loved him then. Then this year happened. My grandmother died. I didn’t see him before he left for the summer. I graduated with my Bachelor’s in Accounting. My dad was put in a nursing home, where he withered away before my eyes. I came back to Western for grad school and saw him again, in the hall, on the fifth floor of Grise, leaning against a table, waiting for his class to open, in a fitted t-shirt and khaki shorts and basketball shoes. I yelled his name as I walked down the hall and he looked up and smiled at me. He has the most beautiful smile. He hugged me, put his number in my phone, and went into class. He made me forget for a minute. God, he made me forget. I didn’t realize I loved him then. The semester went on. I’d see him and smile. Then my world crashed down around me. My dad died. I feel like I have a gaping, ugly whole right through the center of my heart. I never realized that losing him would hurt so badly. I cry so much more now. I think of my dad and the tears pour out of my eyes like waterfalls. They feel like they come up from my heart, through my throat, to my eyes. Maybe this is what they mean when they say your heart cries, because mine surely does. But life goes on. He came over to look at some old notes and I told him what happened. He hugged me so tight I thought that the gaping whole in my heart had closed up. He made me feel slightly more normal. God, he made me feel normal. I didn’t realize I loved him then. The semester went on and I hung out with him a few times. We had lunch. He eats so much! He took me to his favorite spot on campus and we sat there in a comfortable silence until he had to go to class. He told me why he smokes and how much he cares about his friends. He told me about his brother transferring colleges and how his dad works for GE. I’ve watched him twirl his hair and chew on the ends of his pencils. He taught me (or rather, attempted to teach me) how to play beer pong. I know that he can do his own laundry and he’s afraid that I think he’s a pig because of the posters on his bedroom wall. I learned a lot about him and I think he learned a little about me. He made me happy again for a little bit. God, he made me happy. I didn’t realize I loved him then. When I’m alone, I spiral downward into my depression. I’m alone a lot. The semester, the year, the life began to be too much. He wasn’t always there to distract me, so I distracted myself the only other way I knew how. I cut myself. And then I sent the wrong text to the wrong person and he found out. He was worried about me. I told him to pretend he didn’t know. I told him to ignore it like everyone else does. He said no. I tried to pretend that he didn’t know. I took him cupcakes on his birthday (or rather, the day after). We talked that night. He told me things about him that he claims that no one else knows. Some might even make a person want to run away, but I had no room to judge him. So I stayed. And I listened. And I learned so much more about him that night. He told me about the girls he liked, while I held my breath. He got me a blanket because he was afraid I was too cold. Eventually he told me that he understood. He didn’t judge me. God, he didn’t judge me. I didn’t realize I loved him then. The night before he left to go back home for break we hung out with Matthew and I laughed and felt better about life and forgot how miserable I am. Then he told me just how worried he was about my depression and my cutting. He told me that he had talked to a counselor at Western. He held my hand and told me that he didn’t want me to hurt myself anymore. He was scared that he would lose me. He told me that a world without “Caitlin” is not a world he wants to live in. But he told me that my thoughts were too dark and he was worried. He said he couldn’t handle me by myself. He told me that he wouldn’t stand by and let me hurt myself and that he wouldn’t take the chance that I would end up killing myself. He had told a secret that he had promised me that he would keep. I was terrified. I was furious with him. God, I was so damn furious. But then I realized that as furious as I was, I couldn’t make myself yell and scream and be angry at him. I realized that it was because I loved him. I realized he was trying to save me from myself – my own super hero. And I loved him even more. And he made me promise to text him every day and I told him no because then people say I’m clingy and annoying. And he said that he wouldn’t. And I loved him even more. Then I was trying to leave and he kept hugging me. It was like he was afraid he would lose me. And I loved him even more. And he kissed my cheek. And I told myself it was nothing. But I loved him even more. I told myself that I would never tell him. And as of this moment, on this page, I haven’t. We’ve texted over break. Not everyday, like I promised him. But enough that I know I’m getting too clingy, too annoying. He asked me if I liked him as more than a friend one day. I told him no. I told him that I wasn’t emotionally stable enough to like anyone as more than a friend right now. And he believed me. He told me that he could never be more than a friend to me. I think it’s because I’m not attractive enough for him. Maybe he doesn’t like my teeth, or my butt, or my boobs. (Because after personality, that’s what he looks at in a girl, in that order. He told me.) I’m sure that’s probably what it is. However, he says it’s because I know too much about him. I said, “But doesn’t it mean something that I know all these things but I’m still here.” He said it didn’t matter. I think I only have a dime-sized piece of my heart still functioning after those texts. I told myself that I shouldn’t start this. I shouldn’t love him. I should leave him alone. I shouldn’t text. I shouldn’t call. I shouldn’t look. I shouldn’t even think – because I’ll just become more miserable. But I do. Because I love him. Because he’s my drug. Because he makes me smile and laugh and forget and feel normal and un-judged and furious and broken and whole, all at the same time. And I don’t want to give him up. Even though I know that I’ll have to.