One day, they met at a party. Two weeks later, he asked her out. She said yes. They went on one date, got busy and had no more time for each other. He dumped her. They would date two more times over the course of that year, then he would dump her a third time.

For the next four months they would hide their feelings for each other under a mountain of denial so deep that only they could see what lie beneath it. During those four months, she would try to move on. Oh, how she would try! She flirted, and for once gave hope to those drooling at her feet. One of those hopefuls caught her eye. She took the hopeful and lifted him to her level. The hopeful fell for her, he treated her well, and he loved her. She let him treat her like this, bring her gifts, pamper her and whisk her about on his arm as a trophy to present to others. Although after two months with this hopeful she had to end it. Time had weathered away that mountain of denial, for she once again longed for he who had hurt her so.

With the hopeful gone, and him slowly creeping back into her heart, she would cry herself to sleep at night over the hopeful heart she had broken, and over he who had broken her own organ of love and life.

"Please," She would whisper through her sobs into the drenched pillow she would use to muffle them, "Please, either bring back the one I love or let me be free from him!"

The one she loved seemed to be coming back to her. They spoke every night, for hours. He would say how he loved her and missed her. She would say the same. She meant it. He would say how he wanted to be with her forever. She would ask how that could be if they weren't together. This dangerous period of flirtation and deceit would last two months. Throughout this time she would be quickly rising to the top of the world; all the while ignorant to the voice in her head that reminded her each time she heard his voice, The higher you climb, the further you have to fall.

Finally it happened. The hopeful came back, and the one she loved felt threatened. In order to keep her to himself he came up behind her, wrapped his arms sweetly and securely round her frail shoulders, lay his chin gently upon her shoulder and began to sway back and forth the slightest bit. Before she could pull away he asked.

"Rachel, would you like to go out with me?"

She gasped in pure elation. Was this really happening? The moment which she'd waited so long for, and shed so many tears over?

"Yeah!" She whispered. It was all she could manage.

"Yeah?" He asked. "How about yes?"

"Yes!" She said louder, nodding furiously. He smiled, turned her around and hugged her. That night just before they parted, he kissed her. When they were together, they were inseparable and she was happy with him. When they were apart she was more miserable than she'd been without him.

Friends of the two filled her head with accounts of his flirtation with other girls. How he acted with them, what he did with them. She confronted him. He lied to her. The he disappeared.

Now the tears that stream down her cheeks each night are not those of what she cannot have, but of what she lost. They are tears of self-pity, self-hatred and self-loathing. It was not enough for him to wreck what they had together, but he also had to go on to ruin her completely. She lies in bed every single night and asks herself, What did I do wrong? How did I drive him away? Why wasn't I good enough for him?

After she asks herself these things, she cries for a while then says to herself, I did something wrong. I drove him away. I wasn't good enough for him. It is all my fault.

After she says these things to herself, she cries until one of two things happens. Either she falls asleep sobbing into her pillow, or her eyes run dry.

This girl has convinced herself that it is entirely her fault and that he was too good for her, that she's nothing. She hates herself for it, and she hates him for making her hate herself at all. Before she met him, she was so full of love! He took all of it. He left her with nothing but hate, and so much of it that she doesn't know what to do with it. So she uses it on herself. Every second of her life she hates herself, and it's all his fault.

Despite this hatred towards him and herself, she still loves him. For two more months now she has waited for him to reappear and come back into her life. She tells her friends, "It's over, done. I'll break up with him." They believe her, but she knows better than that. She knows that he'll be so sad, upset with himself and seemingly remorseful that she'll forgive him without hesitation and he will get yet another undeserved chance with her.

Her.

The girl who loved him.

The girl who hates him.

The girl who misses him.

The girl who cries over him.

The girl who's sick of waiting for him.
The girl who'll wait for him forever.

The girl who can't stand to love him.

The girl who'll never stop loving him.

The girl he doesn't deserve.

The girl he will always have.

Me.