You once asked me why. My brevity disappeared then. I struggled to put to words, to confine within reason and logic, why. Halfway through my stammers, you laughed at me and told me to stop and relax.
That was definitely part of why, but not its entirety.
In an attempt to redeem myself, I told you to watch 500 Days of Summer, having finished it minutes before you asked. I was quite moved then, like I still am now. I told you to think of me in place of Summer, and as always, you laughed at me. You were always so easy-going.
Last night I told you how I felt at peace these days. It was a realization that came a few nights ago, but there was something else I didn't tell you. The words weren't quite there yet, but I'd like to think that they're ready now.
You once asked me why. Let me take you back in time as an answer.
Erm, I should tell you, though, that there others
who expressed similar intentions and affections.
Do you want me to step back?
I believe in fairness.
If that's what you want, then I'll understand.
That's a first.
Well? Do you want me to step back?
The answer's obvious.
Your answer spoke volumes, and that's a 'No' I'll never regret.