I saw you with her again today.
She's pretty. Short, but pretty.
I wonder what she's like. Is she like me, shy, unsure? Or is she funny, kind, smart, charming? I wonder what it is about her that made you fall for her. Is it her contagious laugh? Her bright smile? Her sparkling eyes?
She's so different from me—I just want to understand. I want to understand why you didn't give up on her like you did on me. I want to understand why she is enough to make your walls come down when I never could. I want to understand what's so groundbreaking about her that made you forget what we had.
I hope she cherishes your hugs, your casual touches, like I did. I hope her heart flutters at your texts like mine did. I hope she can spend forever looking into your eyes like I could, but never got to. I hope she appreciates you—all of you. Like I did.
I see you together in the halls now. Holding hands. Talking. Laughing. Looking at each other. All big smiles and naïve bliss. I watch you both experience what I wish I could have.
Instead, you both walk past me without acknowledging my existence. I blur you two out and laugh loudly at whatever anyone's saying, just to prove to you—and me—that I can have fun without you.
I will always miss what we never had. I will always miss the little butterflies in my stomach that only you could put there. I will always miss unpredictable days with steep downs and dizzying ups. I will always miss you. You, plain and simple.
But I refuse to be reduced to a blubbering puddle of tears. I will pick myself up from the ground. I will make those loud laughs true. I will wear what you did to me like a shield. I will get over it, even if it's long after you have.
I won't cry myself to sleep; if I do, I'll die.