He is twenty seven and I am twenty one. I have a boyfriend of three and a half (almost four) years and he knows it. We talk for hours and hours for months and months, years even and we meet at twelve, midnight, in a carpark in the middle of nowhere. It's halfway between. He kisses me and I hold back because it's what I'm supposed to do and he takes me into his car and tries his best but I don't allow it because it's just not what I'm supposed to do. He's told me that he loves me and I admit the same and I feel silly and awful for letting it happen but I do and it's happened and there's little else I can really do to fix it. I leave. A whole muddle of confusion and "I just don't know" and we fast forward to a week later and he's gotten off right into the back of my throat and now things are weird. Weird, like he won't admit, but things are weird. Like he won't love me, or can't love me or refuses to love me and like I don't know how to fix it. Because I don't. I don't. And I feel silly and wrong. And I wonder. Were you ever as lovesick over me? I have sex with him weeks later and it's weird weird weird but I let it happen and things are still weird weird weird and I feel unloved and unworthy on both parts and I don't know I don't know I don't know.