When all you ever gave me were open wounds.

So that's that. She told me exactly how she feels about her boyfriend and that's fine. That's normal. She doesn't want to be with me.

Oh my fucking god...

I feel like such a hopeless idiot. I know and I know and I know again that she's taken, she's disinterested, and hell, she's straight. How could I let myself fall so hard for her? I'm addicted to the air she breathes. I worship the ground she walks on. My heart stops when her gorgeous mocha eyes pin me to the wall, focus on me out of everybody else. I forget her name, forget everything I've ever learned about her when she looks at me that way, because she's too divine to hold an identity. Her delicate artistry is moving. Her articulacy is astounding. She's just out of reach and I need her to hold me or I'll be paralyzed until the end of time.

Kaitlin, Kaitlin, Kaitlin. She doesn't realize how much she means to me, no matter how clear I make it to her. Petty, time-wasting, stalker-y things like calling her "hot girl," or stupid things (i.e. mentioning her height) that I always regret saying afterward.

I mean, it's not like she'd take any interest in me even if she was attracted to women. I'm surprised she gives me the time of day. She could lend her musical voice to anyone she wanted, but when she's chosen me to speak to it means the world to me.

Doesn't she understand what she's done to me? She laughs but my heart is shattered. She smiles that angel's smile at me but my soul is shredded at the seams. She's killing me softly and I'll never get over it, at least not as long as she's got me anchored to her ground. She calls me a friend when all she ever does is cut me up from the inside.

But I shouldn't have expected any less. Of course someone as flawless as her would have a boyfriend. And apparently he's a poet and a manga artist like I am. Bet I'm better at both, but he's a guy so there's no competition.

Why can't she understand? Why do I need her the way I do?