I like you, but I hate you. You're my man, but I'm afraid to date you. Why do you look at me as if you know what I'm about to say before I say it? Why do you make me laugh when you know I'm angry? Why do you always speak out of term? Yet the term, in which you speak, makes me long for greater communication. Why do you touch my soul in a way that goes beyond physical relation? You make me sick without the cold. You make me wise without the old. You challenge me without the obstacles. You make me nervous without the fear. You terrify me without the scare. You make me drunk without the liquor or the beer. Where did you come from, and how did I get here?