I cry uncontrollably. I didn't come here to cry. I came here to have a rational discussion about getting back together, and it just isn't. It isn't rational and not really even close to being so. I'm having a hard time talking to you because I've never had to explain how I feel to someone I loved. They just know.
But you don't know, and I can tell you don't love me back. I'm wearing this dumb knit hat because I thought it made me look cute, but now I realize it kind of makes me look homeless. I drove here, in the deep snow for the first time, because the risk of not seeing your face was greater than the risk of careening into a tree on the slick roads.
You hold me close, and it's confusing. You're comforting me. But you're comforting me as someone you feel bad for, not someone you want to be with. But since I'm in a state of hysteria, I just let you hold me. It feels nice and I will remember it years later when you smile at me from across a picnic table, as friends. I will remember how you were the first man to make me feel safe, even if it was for only 6 minutes when you held me, weeks after I had already broken up with you.