Stranger Danger?

Who are you? My best friend?
Now that I think of it, I never exactly used the term "Best friend" to describe you in my books. Perhaps it's because I barely know you at all, even after all this time.
Just about a week or so ago, I randomly blurted out that I know absolutely nothing about you. In reply, you immediately pointed out that I do know you're five feet five inches tall, you're fat and you love physics. You were correct, as almost always. Yes, I know these facts. And honestly, I'm beginning to think that, along with just a few more similar facts, this is all the knowledge of you I was ever meant to have.
You say you prefer to remain indecipherable for your own valid reasons. And over the years, I've learned better than to pester you with questions that you will never willingly answer. Hence, even though I confide in you without so much as a second thought, I ask you nothing regarding yourself. And as a matter of fact, I have become quite used to this arrangement by now.
Despite all that remains absolutely unknown to me, you are one of the very few most important people in my life. And in my own way, I love you to death for who you are... whoever you are.
But at times, I just want to walk right up to you and yell right at your masked face: Our lives are as weird as we make them, no more and no less! The choice is no one's but our own! So why is it that you choose to live this way?