Affinity

I'm nervous. Really nervous. I'm talking to you and I know that it could be the last time, but I hope this could become a new beginning. I don't know how to start, I'm overwhelmed by feelings, by memories, by thousands of moments in which you and I were together. But, what do I really feel? An enormous affection, an "I-don't-know-what" that I can't explain and that bond me to you, inseparably. This, though, doesn't mean I accept you without conditions. I've gone further: my affection for you is unlimited, it is strong, really meant to be so. But, at the same time, is constructive. I've grown with you, I've grown because of you, and I think you can say the same. But I'm scared to tell you that I feel something more for you, so huge that I can't even understand. What can I do? I may be ruining our relationship. However, I'm here now, and I can't escape.

I start talking. My words come out fast, one after another. My babbling is gone, my nervousness is gone. I'm free, as I've always been with you.

Suddenly you stop me. You tell me that I'm not talking about love. I'm talking, you say, about an intermediate feeling, between friendship and love. Then, you tell me you feel the same. We're the same, we're in symbiosis.
My doubts disappear. You're right, it's always been so. It's kind of impossible, and useless at the same time, to describe it. Is it so important to find a term to describe it? If we find a word for it, don't we set a limit for it?
Let's call it "Die Wahlverwandtschaften", Elective Activities. Our affinity. What is it? I don't know. An enormous affection. A huge desire to share, to keep living our experiences together. Without love.

We decide to start from this: we're going to be together, foverer, without never being so. Like two parallel lines that always run together, without never cross.