Crazy talk

X: I am not a masoquist.
Z: I didn't say that.
X: But you implied it.
Z: ...
X: You know, maybe I am a masoquist.
Z: See, I knew it, I told you.
X: Yes...since the day we hold each other into our arms, my mind has been wavering.
Z: What?
X: yeah, you know. You hold me, I hold you.
Z: Indeed, but that's because I care about you.
X: I do care about you too. Although I can't stop thinking.
Z: Thinkin' about what?
X: About that windy day, about the sound of your breathing. I thought about it, I think about it.
Z: Why?
X: Because I felt something. Probably, that's why I'm a masoquist. Because I see you every day. I speak to you every day, knowing that sooner or later you'll be gone.
Z: I don't know what to say.
X: Neither do I. What I'm saying is not what I know. Is what I feel. And I feel like a masoquist, because every time I say to you "I don't like you" what I really mean is "I'd love you to love me".
Z: !
X: Every time I call you names I feel like a child in elementary school, trying to get attention from the loved one in a weird way.
X: And even if my memory fades with every moment, I still cling to the feeling I had that day. And it tortures me that sooner than later you'll be away. And I'll be missing you. Actually, I'm mourning the dreaded future every day. So, yes, maybe I am a masoquist...
Z: I guess I have to go now. See you later buddy.
X: Adiós.