I’ll never forget her. I should learn that lesson by now. Every time I try cutting off all contact with her, it just ends up hurting both of us. I think of her every day, constantly. With each passing day the feelings start to cloud over and I actively try to wash away her face. But then, accidentally, I see her on Facebook and I’m dragged back a step. It doesn’t cut like a knife, maybe a dull blade, but it’s not sharp and blindingly painful. She’s my demon, my devil. I hate her. I’m so confused by her. I hate it when she laughs and when she sings and when she jokes around and when she dances and when she pretends not to see me and how she manipulates people and the divaness all inside her and her eyes with all her emotions and when she dresses up when there’s no need to get dressed up and how she’s so touchy-feely and the way she doesn’t really care about anybody but she still tells them that she loves them and how she checks her phone every ten minutes when she’s bored and how she just disappears sometimes and her little breaths and moans and how she gets all that she wants and how she treats her mother and how she uses me. I’m so sorry for touching her. I should have never done it, I know now. It took me awhile to sleep peacefully in my bed. I don’t think I could go near her bed again. I don’t think she can look at me again. I’m sorry for letting it progress to that level and I’m sorry I felt dirty about it and I’m sorry she felt guilty without feeling guilty, and I’m never going to touch anyone else like that again. I’m never going to love anyone else like that again. When I saw her the first time last night, just for that split second, everything came back to me and I almost started crying. I thought I was over her when my love hit the year mark. Now it makes a year and nine months that I’m head over heels in love with the straightest girl I know. She didn’t want to see me or talk to me. I knew when she was putting on a show. I knew when she looked at me. I knew she knew that I couldn’t stop looking at her. I expected it to be like last year. I was avoiding her because I wanted to get over her. It didn’t work. I saw her every day in homeroom and my heart still ached. She got me to talk to her that night, that party. She got me to get over avoiding her and she got me to get her to dance. I don’t know if she did that because it honestly hurt her and she missed me or because she didn’t want to lose just another friend. This time didn’t work that way. I don’t know if it was because she was sick of me shutting her out for brief periods of time, for because what happened between us that afternoon, because she honestly didn’t care, or because it was my turn to step up an apology for being alive. But I texted her last night. I don’t know if she got the text yet, but I’m waiting for a response hand and foot. I just want to talk to her in person. Just talk. She deserves an explanation and an apology at the very least, but I just can’t let that be how we drift off. I’m not ready for her to be out of my life yet. I can’t live with or without her, so why not just show her all my cards? Yes, she’s going to abuse them, but I’m so lost and in pain when she doesn’t know that I still love her. I need to tell her everything. I need her to understand. I can’t ever touch her again, can I? Goddammit, I just want that girl back as my friend. Some part of me needs her and that part is desperate. She’s my whole fucking heart, yet I think I’m just another person on this planet to her. She needs to know.