Understanding Me

I knew…we could never be together.

It wasn't just our differences that separated us. I'm not even sure there are any differences. Out of all my team mates, I'm positive that he and I are the most alike.

I find it strange I believe I am like any of them. I was and always will be the loner. What irony it is that I belong to a team. However, I always liked to keep to myself. The others didn't have to know what was going on with me. Though we lived together, it didn't mean they had to know everything about me.

Besides…they wouldn't understand.

As a group, they ask what's troubling me when I act moodier than usual. I'm not sure if they recognize a pattern or not, but I always tell them to leave me alone. Usually, they do. Is this supposed to make me feel better? Why do I always feel upset when they give up on me?

In spite of this, he will more than likely come alone to see what's wrong. He says he understands me. He knows me better than anyone. He has bravery to say this to me…at least the others admit they'll never be able to understand what I'm really about.

Many times, I want to tell him that he knows nothing about me and should go back to the rest of them. I never do.

Behind his own mask of secrecy, he is hiding pain also. He says I understand him more than anyone else does, so it makes us even.

I always end up revealing what's on my mind…or in my mind. He always listens. He never has the perfect solution to my problems, but I wouldn't expect him to. Many problems go without reason, or too many reasons. He knows this, for he knows me.

Many times, we would simply talk in the hallway while the others were occupied elsewhere. Not until recently has he been coming into my room to talk. He realized I was more open in my lone, dark environment. He's said more than once that once I begin speaking, I lose myself in my words and they spill out easily.

After I realize how much I revealed, I want nothing more than to go into meditation and force myself to forget the conversation ever happened. Instead, I allow myself to enter into his mind for a split second to see what he was really thinking but not saying.

As it turns out, he really does want to help me.

I hated myself when I began to want to talk to him. I found myself looking forward to him coming to my room to talk. I would purposely exit my room and go into the living area just to make a scene of how angry I was. Then I would head back to my room, positive he wasn't too far behind me.

I didn't think about it until after I did it for awhile, but he probably knew I wanted to talk to him. After all, he knows me better than anyone else. He understands me.

I hated myself even more when I wanted to do more than just talk to him. I was never one to express myself in any way. It was crazy how I felt the need to define myself to him in more than one way.

Wasn't this the off-beat definition of soul mates? I saw what he saw…and he's able to understand me when no one else can. Is there another way to describe it? However, I knew we could never be together. Despite how much I actually wanted a companion by my side, it was impossible this time.

It was obvious to all of us how close he was becoming to her. She was open with her feeling to everyone, including him. It wasn't hard to see how happy she made him and how good it made him look to have a beautiful girl always by his side. He knew I could never be like that. Our relationship was built on nothing more than revelations behind closed doors.

Nevertheless, it's not hard for me to admit to myself that I'm happy for him. They're two of my best friends…I'm lucky I even have any. I'm not about to try to change their destiny. I'm not one to get so involved.

His ever-growing relationship with her never stopped him from silently coming into my room to talk, however. To this, I was grateful. Restraining myself has always been a sort of training for me, and this was just another situation that brought it forth.

This is a tale of two soul mates that never had a chance.

The dramatics are unnecessary, but it was only meant to state the truth.

He was able to release the stress I held inside. It made a big difference on my appearance, as well as my mood. That was all I wanted in the first place. It's best not to get greedy. It'll only end badly.

"I'll always know you better than anyone else," he would always say. I constantly hid a small smile at the double meaning. Yes, no one else will ever be as close to me…but he will also never be as close to anyone else. Whether that would always hold true, I didn't know. But I found it safe to believe so.

It was safe to have hidden feelings for him…as long as I forever kept them hidden.

This is when I realize my mistake once again.

He understands me. I don't need to say it…I don't need to show it. He knows me. Only when he began acting slightly different around me did I come to apprehend that he knew. His words became gentler…his actions not so rash. I read his thoughts. I knew he loved me as well.

Alas, it would not end for us the way it should. His place wasn't with me.

It was on his sixty-second visit into my room that made this perfectly clear. Before he stood to leave, he brushed his hand over mine. The touch was so gentle, my body shivered involuntarily at the want for more. It was quick and brief, however, and he didn't say anything as he walked toward my door.

He stepped out. Only then did he turn around. He flashed me a smile, but it wasn't so joyous. It was sad…somewhat regretful. He made it seem like this would be his last visit, but it wouldn't be. We still had many more topics to discuss. He simply thought we should lay that invisible boundary between us that would keep us so very close, yet miles away.

He and I both knew…we could never be together.