So misleading, tiny bar of chocolate. Lindt. Swiss Classic. Milk Chocolate.
    Your colorful wrapper invites me, but I will not succumb to the temptation. Never.
        Such a pity that I cannot peel back that paper. I suppose a single bite wouldn't hurt.
            No. To allow myself a single square of your creamy innards would degrade the gift.
            Would diminish the memory, the symbol in which you stand for. Not just chocolate.
        But a gift! A gifted chocolate, from a friend. From a friend whom I was surprised.
    To hear from that friend, minutes after receiving such a gift, that I was missed!
To hear those words, that phrase. "I missed your sarcasm." My sarcasm!
The words that I speak were somehow missed. And so I smiled.
    I thanked him for the chocolate, for you, and then he smiled.
        I felt so fantastic. I melted. My insides shifted, churned, blended.
            Funny how such a simple conversation, compliment, can throw you.
            Weird how I'm such a dope, such a loser. But that he remembered me.
        Across an ocean, in an airport. When he purchased gifts for his friends.
    I was on that list. I received a gift. And so what if everyone else did too.
I'm not worried about securing a bond between him and everyone else.
I was worried about securing one between him and I. Between us.
    And you, rectangle of Lindt Milk Chocolate. You are proof of that bond.
        Proof that I'm a best friend, that I rank high enough. It's amazing to know.
            A good friend is a friend who shows they care. And you, chocolate. Such proof.
            I feel infinite, amazing, wonderful. All because of a bar of chocolate. A souvenir.
        So what if you can be purchased anywhere in the world? I don't give a damn.
    He could have picked you up at a gas station, for all I care. I don't care a bit.
Just to know he had me running through his head as he bought you.
The funniest part is, I don't even have to take a bite of you to realize....
    You have given me the most pleasure any bar of chocolate ever has.
        And even when I do break down. Even after I've devoured every tiny square.
            I'll keep your wrapper, blue. I'll keep it in my special box, the one with the elephant.
            And you'll remain a memory, a piece of my past. You'll be my reminder of him, of my friend.

    And
          That's
                    All
                        I
                        Ever
                               Really
                                          Wanted.

A friend.
       

    Is this how you treat me, after all I've done for you? After all those times I waited up, hoping I could share even a brief conversation with you? Is this the way you treat someone who loves you for everything you are, but doesn't hate you for everything you aren't? Everything you won't be. Everything you can't be.
    Or maybe you don't know the depth of it. No, you barely comprehend the beginning. It's just too bad. It really is, because I could go on loving you forever, no matter what you think of me. I could sit in a dark room and whisper your name until my throat is too dry to utter another syllable. I could sleep forever, just to see your face in a dream.
    Because I've got a problem. No doubt, it's a big one. The biggest I've ever had. No, it doesn't really affect anyone but you and I, us. It doesn't include your friends, my friends, our friends. No, just us. Just us friends. Us as friends.
    See, that's what I wanted to talk to you about, really. It isn't such a big deal, actually. I mean, if you look at it from an outside perspective it probably looks kind of creepy, kind of awkward. But let's not look at it from an outside perspective. Let's stay inside, shall we?
    Let's sit down, and let's talk. Let's talk about how you're treating me. You're treating me the way you think you should be, right? You're hanging out with me sometimes, and we're talking enough. But that's not what I deserve, is it? Not after all of those nights I've sat in my bedroom and thought about what life would be like if only a tiny fact were different, altered. What I speculate to be a fact, obviously. I mean, no one knows the answer to that one but you. I deserve to know, right? Please tell me.
    I mean, after those dreams in which we're so close. Those dreams where I hold your hand. The ones that jar me from my slumber and all I want is to go back to bed as soon as possible, just to see your smiling face. The face that smiles because you're with me, even though you aren't. The one that smiles that cute, charismatic smile. It matches your laugh so well, so right.
    But, let's get back to the problem. Yes, the problem.
    The problem is, I deserve so much more from you. So much more than I get. And it isn't your fault, in the least. It isn't my fault, I guess. I just should have called it quits before I was in too deep. Before we became so close as friends. That's what I am to you, a friend. And you're so much more to me.
    One sided relationships, the thought. If a relationship could flourish on the ideals and dreams of a single partner; would everyone not be content? But that'd be for me. And I want it to be for both of us.I could get lost in your arms and share my every thought with you. Share every aspiration I've ever had, and you'd be right there to cheer me on.
    Sadly, there isn't any cheering. Less cheering than a funeral, I'd suppose.
    For now we're friends, but when will I smarten up? When will I realize that in the end this is just going to hurt us both. Because, although I think I'm feeling rejected and unloved right now... imagine what I'll feel when it all comes out into the open. Imagine how you'll feel. Annoyed? Creeped out? Sure, I bet you'll feel a tiny bit misled. And we will never be able to talk, comfortably, again. Oh, and imagine how your friends will react.
    I can definitely hear what they'll all be saying. I can see their expressions of outrage and, expectedly, disgust. The way they'll grimace at me from across the room, and talk about me behind my back. That is, assuming you're going to tell them.
    I suspect you're kind, caring enough not to spread it around. I believe you'll keep it just between the two of us. And, being that we'll never talk, that shouldn't be too hard.
    So, we've definitely got a problem. Maybe not so much for you, but for me!
    Unrequited love hurts so much.
    You wouldn't understand. The things you want are all so possible. It isn't the same for me. My heart aches to feel the return of my yearning for what we could be, for you.
    I'm not asking you to change. No way!
    I'd never ask you to change, just as I'd never ask Da Vinci to repaint the Mona Lisa. You can't fix perfection. In my eyes you are that embodiment of all that something, someone, can be. Perfect. The way you talk, the way you laugh, the way you think. It's perfect. Pure gold. Something as intriguing as your personality cannot, should not be altered.
    So don't change. Just let me keep wishing we could be together. Just let me continue to feel these feelings, and let me continue to reprimand myself for feeling them. Don't end what we do have, build on it. It's something I love, but on such a miniature level as compared to my dreams.
    I just want to thank you for this problem, because it's all I could ask for. It's everything I can hope for on the assumption that it is what I think it is. It's what I can have. Maybe not what I deserve, but it's what I get.
    And it's wonderful.