  #1 Why am I so jealous of you? Why do I feel that you have taken something that belongs to me, taken my place? Why do I feel I know you so well, when I don't really know you at all? Why am I afraid of you? Because when I look at you, I see myself, only a better, more complete, more functional version. You should give me hope, hope that I don't have, that I don't get from anyone.
Hope that I won't be me forever, or that the me I'll be then will be better than the one I am now, that somehow I will get better and stronger. But you make me feel inferior and imperfect, unwanted and unloved. Why do I blame you when there is only me? Why do I wish I were you? #2 Why can't I tell you I'm in love with you? Why, when I look at you, do I want to cry?
Why do I feel I missed our chance when I know I never had one, not with you, not ever? Why do I think that we are so much alike? Because I know that we are not, that for all the similarities I've concocted in my head we are very different people, ones who could not function well together, not like that. We'd be miserable and unhappy, yet I can't help but think that I'd enjoy a new, different kind of misery, anything to escape the one I'm in now. But you don't even know how I feel. Why don't you know how I feel?
Why do I feel so lonely whenever I'm around you? #3 Why couldn't I say anything to you? Why, when I caught your eye, and you caught mine, could I not finally acknowledge that I noticed you? Why, when the opportunity repeated itself, did I still not jump at the chance? Why did I shift my glance away the last time I saw you, even knowing it would be the last time I'd see you? Because I'm such a fool who doesn't ever do anything about anything.
I like to sit and imagine myself some tragic figure, destined for misery and gloom and unhappiness and pain. Because I'd much rather feel sorry for myself than do anything about it. Because you are gone. But you don't even know who I am. Why do I wish you knew who I was? Why did I not just smile?
#4 Why am I such a fool around you? Why must I make things so dysfunctional for us? Why must I take everything as a slight, when it is never intended as such? Why do I expect you to remember every little trifling thing? Because I never forget, and I expect everyone to be like me in all the right ways and unlike me in all the wrong ones. Because I think I need you more than you need me.
Because I can see you growing beyond me, leaving me, and I do not want or like to be left behind. Because I want to be important to someone, and you are the closest I've got. But I'm not that important to you. Why do I think I should be? Why can't I just tell you so? 
