Him.

Once upon a time, there was a girl.
She was sad and broken inside. And she wanted to run away.
But one thing that kept her from doing it was him.
He hated her, didn't know that she existed.
He completely avoided her after she told him how she felt.
And that killed her inside.
She cried for days, her summer was ruined; in fact her life was ruined.
She loved him. She really did.
But he didnt know what love was.
He only cared about looks.
And she was fat and ugly.
So he didnt like her back, even though he knew that she was funny, smart, and kind.
He was shallow and mean, so he didnt care when she told him that she liked him.
And she was sort of naive, so she didnt know that she really loved him.
This girl;
is me.
I'm the miserable one.
I got my heart broken, stepped on, and torn into pieces..
and he really didnt care.
because he didnt know that I cared about him so much.
He never got to know how I really feel. Or how much I cared.
Or even that I have feelings.
I know that he is shallow:
I know it all.
I'm not a stalker or anything, but there's some sort of glitch in my head that makes my eyes find him whenever I go to school and he's there.
and yet, even though I know these things about him,
I still....
Love him.
With all of my broken little heart.
the only thing that keeps me from just running away, leaving all of him and everything else behind,

is the fact that not seeing him is even worse than seeing him. I forget what his face looks like, and i want to scream at myself for doing that. I try to hold on to him with all of me that I can muster.

My friends help me. They attempt to cheer me up by being jocular and silly when I'm sad. But the only thing that can keep a permanent hold on my happieness like glue is him; if he loved me. If he held me. If he kissed me. When he accidentally brushes my hand or arm, my heart skips two beats and rockets out of control. I would be the happiest girl in the world, I would jump, and cheer, and scream at the top of my lungs "THANK YOU, GOD!" if he loved me. or even cared at all. but that will never happen. unless he becomes less shallow. Or if he finds out how much i'm hurt by actually seeing, not just looking, with his eyes. If he can see that my smile is a charade, (and apparently I'm a good actor because when I act happy around my friends they fall for it, so that would take some work.) then he might at least be sorry. He could at least talk to me about it. But no.
He walks around with his friends, not a care in the world on his mind. His gold hair shimmering in the sunlight through the windows. He doesnt even know what pain is. Or love.
Or me.