Had the girl's friends been nicer, more loving, or had she been hugged more, then, perhaps, she would not be in love with you. Perhaps, she is more in love with the god-like image of you that exists in her head than she is in love with you. If she lived in a different world, one where life is special, and cherished, and loved, then maybe you'd be just another friend of hers, no one special, no one to dream of, or long for, like a vine in a cave longs for sun, and the freedom of light and wind.
But, as it is, the girl does not live in a world such as that, and so it is you her dreams are filled with, you and the light and wind she so desires.
You don't much talk to her, you know, and also you know she knows this, this knowledge cutting into her like a blade, and this analogy, while so perfect, is so painful to you, as you know it is to her. She hopes, without quite realising it, you think of her, think of how it used to be, that you miss her, maybe, if she is really lucky, you dream of her, long for her. Maybe, just maybe, you like her, like her maybe even just a fraction of how much she likes you. Loves you. Needs you.
When you think of her know, you can see her, see her shaking her head, frowning, trying to clear her mind of thoughts of you. You see her withdrawing into herself, shrinking, writing. The tears starting to fall down her face from the pain of missing you, you feel a sharp pain in your chest. Like the girl who is slowly fading, hundreds of miles away, you shake your head, but smile. Your happiness, positivity, and strength allows you to survive, while the girl who loves you will fade away slowly, disappearing into the chaos of the world.