To start off with, you is Alex, she is Marissa. Everything in after the break is the other way around.

You know you'll never say what you desperately need to. The truth is that you've forgotten how. Next year is college. She'll be leaving your life for good, and you can't do a thing to stop her. You in Barcelona, her in wherever it is she ends up. You don't even know, and you wish that you did, because that would mean that she told you.
You're going a long way from home, but that's because you don't think that there's anything here for you anymore. You know that there is, if you would look, but you don't, because you want a completely new start, and to get that you think that you should go.
Today was a bad day for you. You hardly slept last night, and you couldn't deal with people today. At lunchtime you sat outside, even though it was too cold, just to avoid the people that you see everyday, but especially her. She's always there. So you don't want to be, and you do at the same time. The side that wants to avoid her forever always wins out in the end though.
The only exception to that is when you go to watch her sing. You just can't stop yourself. Every time, you say to yourself, this time I won't go. This time I don't need to. And somehow you always find yourself blurring into the crowd, watching her like you have for the past five years. Five fucking years. You hate it; you really hate it, that she still has this power over you. When she's singing, you forget, and you smile at the emotion in her voice, imagining that every syllable is for you.
Tonight she's gonna sing again. Tonight you'll be there again. She'll look at you, without seeing you, and then she'll look down as she finishes singing, and you'll slowly and silently leave through that back door, slipping out into the cold night air. She'll never know that you were there, and that's the way you want it to be. That's the way it has always been.
You remember the first time she made you smile. All it took was a glance, a brief smile from her. That's all it ever took to make you smile, before you forgot how. You wanted to be near her from the first moment you saw her, even if you weren't sure why. It seems strange when you think about it now; you were so young at the time. Now you're older, but your feelings are the same. You still want to be close to her, and it's those feelings that draw you to her. It's time to let go, you know that, but it's just not happening for you.
She never smiles anymore. She used to, and once, it was directed at you. Now she always looks so fragile, like she could break any second. Sometimes, when you look at her, you wonder if it was you that did that to her. The thought that it could have been makes your chest hurt, makes you feel physically sick. She was strong, and now she's just withdrawn.
You know that you hurt her. You do, even if you never told anybody about the guilt that consumed you for so long after you let those words leave the safety of your mind, let them reach her. She didn't react, just got up and walked away, and you tried to forget that you'd ever even spoken to one another.
Sometimes you catch her in one of those rare moments where she almost looks happy, and you think about how beautiful she looks. You just wish that you could have seen that before. Before it was too late for the two of you to have a chance. Then you smile at her, and try to fool yourself that nothing has changed.
The things you said to her the day she walked away poured out of your mouth before you could hold them back. They weren't the words you had intended to say, but they came out anyway. Now you can't stop thinking about them, or her. Regretting them, and the way you made her feel.
You walked past her today, on your way inside, and the look on her face almost broke your heart. She didn't see you there. She looked so sad, and she was alone, and you know that if you hadn't been so damn stupid she wouldn't have been, because she'd still have you.
You remember the letters she sent you. You didn't read them, you were afraid to. They were locked away in your drawer, and they're still there. You know that reading them wouldn't do you any good. You hate to be hurt, and you know that her words would hurt you. You deserve it, you think to yourself. You still can't bring yourself to open that drawer.
You remember the first (and only) time that she came to watch you sing. How you sang that song for her, the one that she wrote when she was hurting. You threw her own words back at her. Now every time you sing, you imagine that she's there, watching, like she did that one time. You don't know why she came; you weren't expecting her to after what you'd said to her that day. She could forgive you, so why couldn't you forgive her for something she had no control over? You were weak, you realise, and you were so damn terrified to be yourself that you didn't allow her to be either.
Imagining her as part of the crowd helps you, for some reason. And sometimes it seems that she really is there, watching, that half smile that was once so familiar visible on her lips. Then your head clears, and the song ends, and she's gone. She's gone, and it feels like a part of you has gone with her. You didn't realise how much she meant to you until it was too late.
You were afraid to let go of all the things you used to believe in. You still are, and sometimes everything gets too much, and you just break down. You get drunk and sit at that piano singing meaningless lyrics, hollow words. You stagger outside to get some air, and you collapse on the steps. It's the same every time. In the mornings, you wake when it begins to get light, sneak back into the house. Your parents are hardly likely to notice, anyway. They've always been…preoccupied is probably the best way to describe them. They've got their own problems; they don't really pay much attention to you.
The song that you're singing tonight is for her. You want her to hear it, and you know that she won't, and even if she did, she'd never think that it was about her. You wrote it with her in mind, your forehead creasing in confusion as the words seemed to write themselves. You hadn't thought about her in a while, and it seemed like everything you felt about her came pouring out at once. You hate the song, and you love it at the same time, and you wonder when everything stopped being simple. And you know, it was when she looked into your eyes, and told you that she loved you. Three simple words, and they made everything so damn complicated.
You didn't know how to react. Hell, you still don't. You're still terrified, exactly the same as five years ago. Five years, and you haven't let go. You wonder why. You know there's no answer to that question though. It just is, like the two of you should have been.