They love the you they want you to be. And they sing that love so sweetly that it hurts not to try to be that. It happens slowly, and you don't notice. But before long you're more interested in being their you than yours.
(more) Over and over again. It feels as if we set traps. We don't want them to feel trapped, and we don't want to know we know how they feel. That's why when we love, we love asleep. We love in fits, drifting. Fiercely and deep in the heart of an imaginary other, coolly, and at arm's length with ourselves.
I don't remember the me that I want to be anymore.(less)