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So today, I read the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. And bawled my eyes out to my man afterward about my pet lizard, Gregory.

Books can sure give you a weird, new perspective on life.

I wonder why I can always feel more for book characters than real people, and online people more than in person? It's like I'm some sort of weird caring machine that's stuck in reverse. I crushed horribly, and almost fell in love with, this guy I met online when I was 15. Turned out he was a girl, a year younger but with the same personality. Maybe I should forgive her; it's been years.

And Megamind, Spike, and Legolas... damn. Crushes galore. One look into green eyes and I am gone, so gone. And I dunno, it just... the feelings that those guys have, you know? They're all very deep guys, yet still strong. They can still kick your butt if you get on their bad side, and for the first two, their bad side is so damn sexy.

Maybe that's the reason I can fall so fast; I know who they really are. I watch a movie, read a book, or watch endless episodes, and I know what they're thinking and feeling and aching. I see the pain and I see how confident they are on the outside and how shy they are on the inside and I can't help but love them. Is it really love? Can you truly feel for someone who literally can never love you back?

When Roxanne left Megamind? Damn, I cried the first time, I railed, I ached. When Buffy totally misunderstood Spike offering to kill Drusilla, I couldn't believe it. When Gandalf died and Legolas had to deal with death for the first time in his elven life, I could feel the pain in his eyes. I feel too much for them and for everyone and everything. I am way too empathetic. Drop the em, it's just pathetic. I mean, everyone tells me I'm too sensitive, I'm too open, I cry too much. I don't want to cry. I just do. I can't help but cry because I'm empathetic.

The only person that I know that has seen me really fall apart and understands is my T. He's just like the characters in the books and the movies, he's understanding and deep and he's been hurt, but he hides it. He's sweet and clumsy when he wants to be charming. He's an excellent craftsman and a great thinker and I think he'll actually be a great inventor if he ever gets the confidence in himself. He has these hazel eyes that turn green when he's upset or excited, and they're brown and soothing when he's calm. He's thin and strong and just perfect in every way. Hell, he even is a bit of a bad boy. He's got a tattoo and loves motorcycles and going way too fast, and he likes pushing the limits when it doesn't matter. When limits do matter, though, he keeps things safe. Sometimes it's hard to believe he's real, because real people aren't like that. They hate you. They hate everything about you, or they see you and you're beneath them, or you're just somebody, one person among many and you don't matter. Real people aren't like him; but he's real.

And you know what? I yell at him, I snap at him, I treat him like crap a lot. My temper is terrible, because I'm not like him, I'm not a perfect person like a cardboard cutout of Megamind as Bernard. I'm too much like Roxanne, I hurt him all the time, but he's just like Megamind and forgives me all the time, and he's just like Spike in that he just keeps on loving. I don't deserve him, I never have, and I know I'm rambling but I don't care. T's my perfect paradox and I don't deserve him. I'm just like that rotten female in books that can't stand that other people aren't all revved up and angry all the time, except unlike in books, I don't ever end up happy or learning from my mistakes.

But he forgives me for it. He always does. He says my temper's getting better and he loves me and he'll always want me, even if I made him cry. I can't believe I made him cry. We had an argument and I made him go away and when I came back he cried. Guys don't cry, and he's no exception, I just hurt him so much he couldn't help it and he cried. I'm a horrible person. The one perfect guy in the world and I make him cry. Number one heel, anyone?

The worst part, the very worst part, is that even beyond all the cute stories that really happened even though they feel like a book, and even beyond all the tough times, deep below everything, I still have trouble. I can feel for characters; I can feel for animals; I can feel for everyone. Except I can't feel enough for him. I love him; I know I do. And it's not that stupid thought of "I love him, I know I do, but I really don't." I do love him. It's just... it feels fake, even though it's not. Because half of me is living in the real world and half of me lives in the books. I guess I'm afraid that only half of me can love him because the rest is just gone. I feel so much like we're one person when we're together and we're happy, and when we're apart and we hurt. We can finish each other's thoughts and point out each other's errors and have fun with grammar jokes (whom!). Yet I'm still scared that he's just going to disappear and I'm going to be all alone without him, and he's just another fake story in a fake book, or worse, that he's just a fake person and all the real ones are fantasy. Because real people could never, ever love me, because I'm just the loser who never fits in and freaks people out when I talk. And I do, I make people totally uncomfortable and they want me to leave and they always have, I've never understood social niceties. I'm just the social freak in the dress and glasses that professors tell "you need to change so much if you're going to stay in this program" and loses her temper all the time. I'm just a freak.

But he loves me. He loves me for being a social freak and he loves my glasses and dresses and that I'm different and he thinks I'm smart. And he doesn't think that I'm worthless for wanting to stay at home with our kids like a lot of feminists do, and he's proud of me for being a geek. My extended family hates me for being me and I have very few friends, but he's just so proud of me that sometimes I almost feel proud of myself. He's a perfect paradox. God, help me.