The You.

It is strange how recently I became so taken by you, by the idea of you, by your own you. See, the idea of you has become so dear to me that I have completely encapsulated your life into mine and I repeat the you in my mind that its echo resounds in my ears and I see you again. I say the you because you have become an entity; the concept of you became embodied in another fictitious being, static in my head. The You has become a study on which I cast my hypotheses and sink into analyses. You’ve become the patient and I’ve become the psychologist I am, and I enjoy studying us, studying me studying you. I say The You because I’ve managed to define you into an existence independent of your own self; an existence closer to me than the real you; the you that does not exist in the proximity of the me. I say the me because I’ve managed to define me into an existence very quite dependent on my own self, that I have become two: the me and myself, the self that everybody else knows. And I realize that the you sheds light on the me, and the me takes over me.