Sometimes, like the times he does something surprisingly sweet, I think I'm falling for him.

But then I remember that I fall fast and hard like a rock you'd throw into the water, quickly sinking deeper and deeper. I remember that falling never, ever creeps up on me all of the sudden. I remember that I know - without a sliver of doubt - when I've fallen as soon as it happens, but can never see it coming. I remember that I can't stop it from happening and it literally leaves me short of breath like those times someone jumps out of corners to scare me. The feeling is exhilarating and frightening and, yes, even addictive.

When I remember how I fall, I know I'm not falling in love and I can breathe a bit easier. Because falling in love has never been a positive experience. It's always ended and it's always hurt and it's always meant

months

and

months

and

months

and

months

of hurt.