Sometimes, because of solitude or loneliness or a craving for familiarity, you let down your good-sense guard and open yourself up to feel again for something that you thought you had let go of.
Sometimes you allow it to feel good when you hear the need in his voice, even though history has shown that nothing will come of it.
Sometimes you allow yourself to feel his pain when he talks of his nightmares and his fears, sometimes you allow yourself to worry for him, to call to check on him, to tell him not to shut you out again.
Sometimes you let yourself hope a little, you let yourself taste and enjoy the fantasy that has made up 90% of your relationship.
Sometimes you can admit to yourself that he may be that person for you even though he is deeply imperfect and might love you for all the wrong reasons, although they've always felt like the right ones.
Sometimes you let yourself remember that he is the person that carried you to confidence, to safety, to hope, and that in truth we saved each other from a curse of deep cynicism and shallowness.
Sometimes you savor the inside jokes, the nicknames, the stories that you only share with him, because after all this time they still are the most funny, the sweetest, and the best that you've ever had.