I want to be beautiful, thin, rich. I want to be everything he wants, and everything she is. I want every word from his mouth to be the truth. I gaze out the window just to watch him. Every visit begins and ends the same way I watch him arrive, smoke cigarettes, sleep, and the next morning he ignores me. I know exactly what he comes over for, and it's the only reason he keeps coming around. I don't know why I even bother to pretend when he's around. It doesn't matter what I say to him or if I seem like I'm okay or not. He's not interested in me, he's interested in what I've got to give. He doesn't care about any part of me, as long as I give him what he wants, what he came for.

Of course I've tried telling him how I feel, and if you knew him at all you would know that he just brushed me off.

"That's great baby." He sang. Then proceeded to stick my hand down his pants. And I start thinking about how he cares so little when he interrupts me with, "Baby, can your shirt come off now, please?" He's polite with words, but not in anything he does.

This is probably every girl's dream, to be screwing Shane Gray. It was mine at one point too, but I never wanted it to be like this. He wants my body but he wants her love. She's always going to be the girl he wants and the girl I want to be. I can look at her picture all I want, I can copy her hairstyle, her make-up and her clothes, but he'll never see me as anything close to the perfection she radiates.

I'm sick of being kept up at night with thoughts and dreams about him. He's on my mind when I open my eyes, and when I close them. I'm on his mind when he needs sex Though with him being who he is, that's a lot, but it's still not enough.

I want to end this now, so I can get some peace, but then I look at him sleeping next to me and I forget everything that hurts until he leaves again the next morning. When he leaves, it becomes just so easy for me to sink down into that sadness until he comes around again. It's been weeks since I cried, I'm sick of trying to be tough.

I would give anything, pay any amount of money for him to tell me, honestly what he wants, how he feels, but I could give anything and he still wouldn't come clean.

I open my eyes to find him still lying next to me. We're in the same bed, we're so close, but he's so isolated. It's way too early for regret. I roll over to face the clock, it's red lights screaming 11:11. It's not like him to still be here.

"I wish to be beautiful, thin, rich." I repeated in my mind for the millionth time this Summer.

I guess I should know by now, time spent wishing is time wasted.