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"I love you."
You run away, leaving me scarred. I mentally congratulate you. It is not easy to scar me. However, I have carried many scars through my life, and this is just another added to the pile. I will not give up on you so easily.
"I love you."
You turn your back on me and begin to walk away. "I do not want to hear this," you say. Oh, but I want to say it. I want to say it until I break that resolve of yours, and I will continue my quest until I am too scarred to do so. And that makes two.
"I love you."
You freeze in place. I can tell I have just ruined our day together. Even if it was just shopping for the tennis club, I still want to be near you. But you will have none of it. "I will go on ahead," you say. "You look pale. Go home and rest." It was meant to drive me off, and for the day, it did. But only because I let it. After three scars, I have realized that, step by step, your perfect world is crumbling, and you are getting even closer to me.
"I love you."
You turn and face me. "I cannot return your feelings," you say. But that is an improvement. It scars me yet again, feeling worse than being stabbed by a dagger, but my fear of rejection has long left me. Only the pain remains. Now there are four scars on my heart. I am counting. My old scars no longer matter, because this pain is worse than all of those combined. I now only count the scars given to me by you.
"I love you."
You walk toward me and say, sighing, "Give up. I do not like you that way." No, I will not give up. I love you too much. And your walls are cracking. After every scar I collect, you inch closer to me. I will tear down that perfect place you have made for yourself, and bring you to my broken world.
"I love you."
You close your eyes and rub your temples. "This is nonsense," you say. But you did not say that you don't feel the same. And this scar does not hurt as much. Six scars, and I am getting used to them. I am getting closer, still.
"I love you."
Hesitancy passes over your face. "You need to stop this. It is a problem for our friendship," you say. But the one who needs to stop is you. Because, if you still say we have a friendship, then you are still holding on to me, just as much as I am to you. And this scar is a small one, for you were not cold to me as you replied. Your world is beginning to break.
"I love you."
You walk towards me and kiss me on the cheek. "I am sorry, but I am not ready for this kind of relationship," you say. I suppose that is fair. The eighth scar is only a scratch. You have just told me that what I am aiming for is not impossible.
"I love you."
You stand in front of me and kiss me. "I know," you say. And for now, that is good enough. You are only one step above me, and my newest scar is nearly nonexistent. And your walls are crumbling, with only a bit remaining standing. Not for long.
"I love you."
You moan my name. There is no other response, for what I just said is normal for this situation. Our bodies are connected, feeling better than I ever dreamed possible. I cannot even feel the tenth scar, for the pleasure right now is too great. We cannot get closer than this; at least, not physically. And your walls have fallen, and your perfect world is crashing down around you.
"I love you."
You are silent, just staring into my blue eyes. They suck you in, because your brown ones are not used to seeing them. I see realization on your face. Your perfect world is destroyed, and you are falling. But I am here to catch you. And now you can live in my broken world. My world needs you to fix it, so we can both live perfectly, together.
"I love you, too."
And there are no more scars.
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