i'm just a coaster, but my wheels won't go

You had something to say. You told me it had nothing to do with me, as if that would make me feel any better. You said something about an awkward situation with another person. I have to admit that I stopped listening and slipped inside my head somewhere around these words.
As I got ready, I had a feeling there was someone else. I had the opportunity to back out on our plans and spend time with someone else. Would that have made those words go away or would it just prolong the feeling of hanging on a wire, inevitably fated to fall without a net?
Am I being overly dramatic? I would say that in relation to the emotions coursing through my small frame and oversize glasses, that my drama level is barely a blip on the radar—least of all yours.
What does awkward situation mean anyway? Is it a situation that brings you intense sadness or happiness? I imagine difficulty. Difficult words cruising down difficult roads. Choosing bumpy terrain in an attempt to avoid dead-end turns. It turns out one of those bumps was me.
You said you enjoy my company and there was nothing I did wrong. It apparently wasn’t enough either.
We had an amazing time on our last encounter. The air seemed sweeter that evening. We exchanged warmth as we lay in embrace. Then, one soft sweet kiss passed from your lips to mine. Bliss.
Now, I am faced with awkward situations and I find myself awfully confused. If I am the one who is constant and kind, why am I the one being pushed away?
I may not have clean fingernails or be soft around the edges. However, I have an enduring spirit. I will rejoice in your success and wipe away your tears when the world pummels you. I will take pleasure in in your whimsy and squeal with delight when the occasions present themselves. I will be steadfast. I will hold you close when the world forsakes you and hold you up when everyone wants to know whom you are and shake your hand.
Constant.
But, somehow, this is not what you want. You want to keep me close enough to lay eyes on, to watch over, but not so close that I feel a sense of ownership. A carrot that dangles never to be eaten.
This is my path, perhaps chosen from the beginning. Perhaps continually stumbled upon by accident like an end table that is perpetually bumped into when the lights are off.
Fate. Happenstance. Semantics. Trivial.
I hope your path leads to happiness, but even more than that, I hope it leads back to me. I can’t wait, but I can hope.
Goodnight.