Part 2
He had terminated our contact.
I didn't understand why that . . . why it made want to die.
The thought that the words of a hologram could hurt me so much terrified me.
But he was not just any hologram.
He was my best friend.
*But I want more!* I thought stubbornly. *I have since he almost left Voyager!*
The memory of our tense argument brought new emotions to me.
Pain, fear, panic, anxiety.
What the Doctor would term "the blues".
And something undefinable.
I believe it was love.
But love was a weakness.
I was Borg.
Love was irrelevant.
I made up my mind quickly and strode briskly to Astrometrics.
Underlying my newfound resistance to romantic sentiment were these nagging,
pathetic, weak, *imperfect* thoughts:
I will not cry.
Tears are weakness.
He's only a hologram.
I don't care about his feelings towards me.
I will not cry.
I will not cry.
I will resist . . .