No.

You're asking me to forget about you. Again.

It's just not something I'm willing to do.

I can't be that guy who looks back on his mediocre life, and thinks that he could have just let the one thing that stood out in his life, the one thing that made his heart beat a mile a minute, made the stars seem to shine brighter in the night sky, slip through his fingers.

I can't, and I won't.

I don't need to search for the one who completes me... because it's been you, all along. You told me that it's not who completes you, but compliments you the best?

I can't believe that... where is the truth in a world full of half-filled hearts? You don't complete a puzzle by forcing the pieces that look the most similiar together. It needs to fit, like we fit... and it hurts all the more now that it seems as if we will never fit...

You are my Carol Vessey, my Elliot Reid, my Maggie Rice... you are every girl that every guy like me has ever yearned for.

I am the goof who spends four seasons of any given sitcom pining over the girl, and takes three steps backwards for every step forwards.

We are the couple who miss each other daily on the stairwell, as you go up, and I drift further toward ground.

You and I, travolti da un insolito destino nell 'azzurro mare d'agosto...