You know its strange. Funny actually. In a sort of unfathomable, surreal way.
When you're paid to be Mr Fix-It at work, to be that guiding star, a pillar of sound advice, the problem solver. You do all that and more. With cold, clinical precision. Unfeeling, uncaring, unfailing.
And yet when it comes to fixing a few seemingly simple things in a special relationship, you just stand there, transfixed. Perplexed at your own lack of intelligence and ingenuity.
The heart may be the loveliest of organs. But when it lures you into its labyrinth of unsorted feelings and mixed emotions, oh how wretched it can be.
You can't keep wandering this maze of indecision forever. Can't there be a quick fix to all this pain?
I wish I could fix you, really.