I cried, but I didn't understand why, so I laid there for awhile in thought. As I became one with darkness, I realized: I feel inadequate.
I am smart. You are smarter. I am strong. You are stronger. I am stubborn. You are stubborner. (Not that I'd ever tell you to your face. I've got to keep up appearances you know.) I'm genuine. But you are moreso.
So when I told you that I think I love you, my feeling of inadequacy grew. I don't want you to admit to feelings that are untrue, but I wish you could decide if you love me too.
I can't tell you any of this. You'll draw back inside yourself. So I'll continue to hide it.