Extracted from an article on ThoughtCatalog.com

I’ll grunt at you instead of answering your questions and I’ll be relieved when you leave the room and shut the door behind you, because I love you so much, and you should never have to receive me when I’m like this. When I’m like this I should be shackled to a wall and fed gruel that’s been slopped on the ground in front of me, and my hands should be tied behind my back so that I have to lap it up from the dirty floor with my tongue.

I guess love is when you come back, 15 minutes later, and you’ve been down to the off license and bought me my favorite biscuits, you know, the Weston’s Digestives with the chocolate on one side, even though it’s cold in the street and we’re poor and have no money to pay our rent. The way you come back to me, with the packet of biscuits in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, the way you come so silently and put these things next to me, the way you walk across the room without even displacing the air you’re moving through, makes me ashamed that you have to love someone that can be such a horrible little troll.

But still, I love you so much I am too embarrassed to apologise, and I continue to sit there with my arms crossed and my bottom lip out. I won’t even turn my head to face you, but I can see the biscuits laying on the bed between us, as you take up your position next to me, leaning against the brick wall because I’ve got all the pillows and I’m too stubborn and surly to take one. I think I love you more as we sit there, me obstinate and you so calm, a ringmaster waltzing boldly into a lion’s den.

Read the full article. It's for the sick lonely people out there like me who want to experience this.