Fidelitas et Caritas et Amor. Or Mea Culpa.

Being a best friend sucks sometimes. I mean, I love her, and it's worth it, but this is the kind of devotion, the kind of Caritas et Amor, that most parents don't show their children.

I want to help her, but I want to make her happy. I don't think I can.

I want her to find happiness, but I want her to do it with me, which she can't. And I can be a guide and a friend and all of these things, but the thing that is keeping me from being close to the person I should love is the overwhelming responsability and duty and care I feel towards her. Fidelitas et Caritas et Amor.

She's in a situation I don't see a good end to, and I'm probably making it worse by writing these words, but she's such a huge part of my life, more than she knows, and she doesn't quite know what it's like to be behind somebody for so long and get shoved back when you try to move next to them.

She's an amazing person, and she will find happiness. I know it. I just don't know how to be a best friend, and a lover, and a servant, and a confidant, and all these things to so many.

All these feelings are so painful and paralyzing and I don't know what to do. And she has Itzwibble, so it's not like I can even cuddle up and cry about it.

And yet If I speak with the tounges of men and angels, but have not love, I am as a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.

Put another way, I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't. But you know what? I love her anyway, and I would never leave my post behind her.

This is what happens when I think of my own pain, and my own potential happiness, not of others.