I am still here.
I know that you have long since forgotten about me, Ami, but I am still here.
Sure, we talk.
Sure, we're friends.
But I don't want to be just friends, and you don't realize that. Somehow, you have forgotten about me, the Cole you used to love. More than a friend.
Oh, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. Everyone saw it.
I saw it, in the way you smiled at me, in the way you laughed with me, in the way your eyes sparkled around me.
I fondly remember how you talked around me. Even when you were talking to your friends, you were really talking to me. "I don't like peanut butter," and "I'm going to my grandma's for the weekend," said in an abnormally loud voice when I was close by, spoken to Anna but directed to me. Those were for me, for me to store away in my brain for later.
When we really did have an actual conversation, it was different. You aren't a listener, Ami, everyone knows that. You're an open book to the world. But with me, you'd listen. You'd sit still while I told you about my life, and I knew you cared. Sometimes you'd tell me about yourself, but more often that not, it'd be me doing all the talking.
You were (are) my first love, Ami, and I think I was yours.
I don't know what happened.
I know that this reflects what kind of person you are, how you would throw me away for him, how you don't care about the years we spent together.
I know that you're shallow and vain.
I know that I should forget about you.
But I can't. So please remember that I'm still here.