A tale as old as time.

He is my best friend.  The one I depend on more than almost anyone.   He's my comedian when I need to laugh.  His shoulder is my handkerchief when I need to cry.  He is my sounding board when I need someone to listen.  He is my voice of reason when my emotions take over.  He is my best friend.  But only my friend.  Everybody tells me he loves me.  Of course he loves me.  He's my best friend.  They say he loves me in a different way.  What do they mean?    He is my best friend.  Like a brother.  Why is that so hard for people to understand?  They say he looks at me differently.   But I don't see it.  They are crazy.  They don't understand our relationship.  Our friendship.  But the insinuations have infiltrated my mind.  As we spend every day together I begin to doubt.  We play together.  We laugh together.  We eat together.  We stress together.  Does he love me?  Am I the crazy one?  No.  I am not crazy.  I can't be.  I ignore the insinuations because he is just my best friend.  

A year has passed and I do not live close to him anymore.  I miss my best friend.  I miss laughing with him.  I miss stressing with him.  I miss staying up all night talking about nothing with him.  Do I love him?  Of course I do.  I love him as my best friend.  But do I love him more?  No.  I can't.  Everybody says I do, but what do they know anyway?  They are not me.  They don't understand.  They are crazy.  It gets harder to ignore them.  But I persist.   He is just my best friend.

I saw him for the first time in months.  He is the same.  He is still my best friend.  He makes me laugh.  He listens to me.  He talks to me.  He is still my best friend.  The insinuations return.   He loves you, they say.  No, I think, he cannot.  But maybe?  I see the look in his eye.  The one they told me about.  I ignore the look.   He just missed me that's all.  Just like I missed him.  He holds my hand.  Friends don't hold hands.  Not like this.  I try to ignore but I can't anymore.  My wall of ignorance begins to melt at the touch of his warm hand.  He is just my best friend.  Right?  I don't know anymore.  I ask him.  I wait for him to tell me that I am just his friend.  Like his sister.  But the answer I wait for doesn't come.  Everybody was right.  I was wrong.  They were not crazy.  I was.  He is more than just my best friend.