Understanding would be good

I hope one day I understand. I hope one day I will know why he loves me one day and hates me the next. I hope someday I understand why I could never let go, even when he was dragging me through broken glass. Sometime I want to understand why we both have to be so stubborn, and pretend we weren't looking. I'm going to comprehend his coldness. I'm going to have empathy for his silence. I'm going to know why he is so good, and yet cannot be a friend. Why can he sit there and cooly let me tell him how much I want to be his friend, and how I want to understand, and I want to help, but I don't know how. And then he says "That can't be any fun." Vague answers full of apathy! That's all I receive for my hours of help, my years of dedicated friendship. Whether he's afraid, resentful, or merely oblivious, I want to be able to be there for him. Still, how can I be there for someone I can't get a hold of? I am probably so vain for thinking how much I deserve from him, and how much he's robbed me of. He talks so often of basic courtesy, being kind to others, but what does he do to me?! He ignores my frequent pleas for friendship. He ignores all communication. Then once, we have a conversation like the old days. Then he goes back to ignoring me! And then, once confronted, "I must have meant you were a new experience." or "That can't be any fun." and then that's the end of it. No friendly discussion, no heart to hearts. Suppose she is right. Perhaps no good deed goes unpunished.

When the day has finally closed,
And so have my weary eyes,
I dream of music not yet composed,
Of villians I don't yet dispise.

Yet most of all through the dark peaceful hours,
I toss and I turn,
I wish and I yearn,
And all senses burn
For that beauty that once had been ours.

True, one can never relive the past.
All that, I know, is gone.
But hope for the future simply can't last
When our dream died at its dawn.

-Eliza Woodhouse