If he knew how deeply I felt for him, he would never question my fidelity or jokingly refer to the "beginning of the end." Perhaps if he felt the gradual acceleration of my heart beat when Michael Jackson signaled his income call, he would want to hold me closer. And maybe, just for a few seconds, if he watched the slides from our wedding that I show in the back of my mind, he would never speak of future girlfriends. A wise man once told me that the mind and heart will almost never work symbiotically, and events that read "complicated" or "damaging" in your mind inevitably become lost in translation to your heart. My mind, led by constant reminders of my failed relationships and images of your emotional progression, begins a perpetual line of self-questioning that always ends with a seemingly rational interpretation of our situation. In my head, I know that you're falling out of love with me; and maybe it wasn't love to begin with because love dictates actions contradictory to your own; and next year, you'll probably seek your next conquest who looks nothing like me because I have a face that even YOUR mother couldn't love.  Like light reflecting off on an infracted lens, these images of you that course through my troubled mind are inverted in the mirror facing my heart. Because in my heart, I know that my feelings for you are different; they’ve weathered my mental boot-camp, lasted through the opinions of those who continue to judge my decisions and have altered my perceptions on the meaning of compromise, sacrifice and true happiness.  My mind screams that I have an inability to accept change, that holding on to familiarity reeks of psychological disarray. I can't help but second guess my heart, which pumps the beauty of commitment through my veins and pushes me to believe in love, in you, in myself.  And in my mind, I know that despite my disdain for practice, work and sacrifice, I would willingly practice making you smile and work on building a relationship that can offer me peace. And in my heart, I know that I wouldn't sacrifice the memory of your presence to ease the pain of your sudden absence.