Loves me…loves me not…loves me…

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I see the way you look at her. Wishing, hoping that she'd love you back someday. You were so busy trying to get her to love you, that you didn't notice the one who already did.

Your love is unrequited. But I don't wanna tell you that. I don't like destroying hope, for it is the one keeping me up. Keeping me alive.

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Loves me…loves me not…

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Curse the flowers. They don't really tell the truth. One time it's yes. Another it's no.

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Loves me…loves me not…loves me…loves me not…loves me…

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So why am I still relying on them?

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Loves me…loves me not…

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I'm 98% sure that you don't love me back. But I have faith on that 2%.

Because I don't usually let myself fall for others. Though with you, I never saw it coming. Next thing I know, I was falling. Hoping something would catch me and help me to my feet. In

other words, something to help me get over you.

You look at me.

You see her.

You smile at me.

You grin at her.

You hear me.

You listen to her.

You like me.

You love her…

You probably only see me as your best friend. And you see her as your soon-to-be wife. Your soul mate.

I was told opposites were meant to attract. So maybe that was why I was falling for you.

And even though we are opposites, you don't feel different. At all.

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Loves me…

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You come to me for advice.

Should I ask her out?

Which one would she like better?

Do you think she'll like my hair?

I smiled and answer your questions.

And watched you get together with her. When all these years, I kept seeing myself in her place.

I was 98% sure you didn't love me back. But I have faith on that 2%.

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Loves me…loves me not…

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Cursed flowers.

Here I am now, sitting. Thinking. Visualizing. What could have been our future.

I am enveloped in darkness. The tears fall freely down my cheeks, ruining the mascara.

We were supposed to go out tonight. We were supposed to go to that dance you forced me into coming? Remember? I bet not.

I have lipstick on. And eye shadow. I'm even wearing a dress. All for you.

And what do I get in return?

More tears fall, landing softly on my gloved hands.

I shake my hair out of it's messy bun, prepared to walk home in my high heels.

But I can't. I'm paralyzed.

I keep seeing you with her.

More tears, now. I don't care.

I finally have enough strength to walk home.

I glance back at the building where the dance was taking place.

...

It doesn't matter anymore.

--

Morning arrives. I wake up early, like I always do.

I walk to our tree. Remember? We used to swing together when we were little, not minding how close our bodies were.

I sit on the wooden board. We hadn't been here since you got with her.

I silently rock back and forth, again the tears coming to my eyes.

I can't stop them.

Because I didn't want to.

Because no one was there to tell me it was okay, to tell me everything was alright.

I felt so alone. I was truly alone, actually.

I hear someone approaching. I do not look up.

I do not care anymore.

And then I hear you speak my name.

I slowly look up, hating myself for being so weak.

Your face is also tear streaked. I knew that look too well.

You had broken up with her.

As if that was more than how I was feeling.

You expect me to run over to you, to comfort you in a way I was never.

I look back down at my hands, pushing down any desire to give in and rush to you. Because I'm not perfect. I need my moments to be scared, to be sad. To, for once, think of myself.

There is silence.

Then I hear you walk over and your hands pushing my back gently, making the swing croak and move. My hair gets in my face because of the wind. I make no move to push it back.

It stays like this for a few minutes.

Again, silence.

I stand up, getting off the swing.

I hear you walk toward me, and I'm ready to counter any things you say, ready to hurt you if you tried to stop me. Because you hurt me…

You wrap your arms around my waist from behind, your face nuzzled into my neck.

"I'm sorry."

And I know that you've realized. That you've finally noticed me.

"It's okay," I whisper, "Everything's okay."

I was 98% sure you didn't love me back. Thank god I kept faith on that 2%.

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Loves me…loves me not…

Loves me.

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