I'd like to start this little poem with a song by Bis:

Not Even Close

you like to think that you know me

but perhaps don't even like me

I'm sure it's not unexpected

that any love will be rejected

I'm not eccentric in anyway

just watching my vulnerability

I'm just fed up with fake friends

I think I'll keep my thoughts to myself

you think that you are close to me

but I can see through you all

I used to think that everyone was nice

now I realize it's for a price

too many people love themselves

so much that they can't love anyone else

used to say things secretly

now say a word and it's used against me fed up with b******g backstabbers

I now know who my real friends are

you think that you are close to me

but I can see through you all

so easy to say paranoid

a subject that you like to avoid

don't really know a thing about me

won't get to know me personally

just believe what you are told

isn't it just easier that way?

take advantage of my good nature

confide, then turn around and hurt you

you think that you are close to me

but I can see through you all

This is a little poem/songfic thing that I'm writing out of feelings about this girl who lives next door to me. Blue Mystic Moon Warrior, and Harriet Potter, you know who I mean. (I think. ^_^) We'll call her ______. ______ is a girl, like me, and she's in the same grade as me. She's really, really popular. I'm not. I wear glasses, I'm fat, and get straight A's. Get the picture? Although, even though you might not think so, she once was one of my best friends. 5 years ago, I had just moved into my current house. We met, and although at first we didn't want anything to do with each other, that changed. And we got to know each other very well. We came over to each other's houses, and our friendship was really strong-until 6th grade. We went to different schools, and she was really busy with everything. And slowly but surely, we drifted apart. Then one day, everything clicked. I wasn't good enough for her. I wasn't cool enough. I didn't fit in. It just wasn't fair. That had never mattered to her before. I had complained countless times to friends and family, and had toyed with the idea of writing this for some time. But lately, two things have happened that convinced me. One: This girl comes up to me in chorus the other day, and asks me if I've ever tried to kiss ______. I said, "No. Why do you say that?" But in my mind I was screaming, "What the f*** are you talking about, you b****?!" She told me, "______ said you did." "Well, I have no idea what she's talking about." That was me. "So, did you?" That's the other girl. "No." That was me. She walked away, although the look on her face clearly suggested that she didn't believe me. I'M NOT A LESBO!!!!! Two: I recently read a note posted in a story on , by a girl named Erin whose situation was very similar to mine. So, without further ado, is my poem, Popular. It is dedicated to Erin. Erin, wherever you are, I hope that this will be of some help. And ______, I know that even if you do read this, you won't have a friggin clue who I am.

Popular (This is told through my POV)

She called me again.

Everybody asks me who she is and if I know her. I say I don't.

That's a lie.

She was my friend once.

But time pulled us apart.

She never talked to me anymore.

But it was more than time.

I wasn't 'cool' enough for her.

I wasn't popular enough.

So I made up my mind that I didn't need her anymore.

But I still thought of her a lot.

Even as I was discovered;

I remembered the time she called me a good actress.

I grew more and more famous.

She called me more and more everyday.

I made up my mind not to return her calls.

After all, why should I?

I had real friends,

Who liked me for who I was on the inside, not because of my social status.

But still, I remembered the laughs we shared.

And I wondered.

Why?

Why had she changed?