He hates breaking hearts. That's what he told me on the first evening of our camping trip. He hates being confronted with other people's feelings and having no other chance than hurting them.

It may be one of the reasons why I hesitated bringing up the topic of that night in front of him. Because I knew he wouldn't like it and I didn't want to hurt him. 'Cause that's just how I am. I don't want to hurt other people, even if it means that it allows them to hurt me.

This week of almost complete ignorance between us was full of fear, doubts, jealousy of all the girls he talked to and of course hope. I still hadn't given up on the thought that he might like me, but doesn't know how to bring it up because he isn't sure that I like him back. Very, very optimistic, I know. And unrealistic. Because even someone who is blind and deaf at the same time would have figured out that I had a huge crush on him during the camping trip.

And I felt lonely. When I laid in his arms that night I was so sure of soon having a boyfriend and now I felt so far away from it. I even felt so lonely that I didn't throw the pullover I wore that night into the cleaner but took a few smells at it per day because..., well because it smelled like him. Now that I write it down it sounds creepier and more desperate than it actually was, but fact is: I was hurt and confused, but I hadn't given up hope.

But then came the end of this strange week and with it the end of my patience.