To: You. From: Me.

You. You act like you care. You act like you give a damn about me. You talk like I mean something to you. You touch me carefully, as if I were a fragile piece of glass. You give me hope. You appear in my dreams. You give me those looks, you stare at me. You are there when I need help. You are there when I least expect it. You are the one who demolished my heart.

You would always talk to me, especially when no one else would. You were my mentor in some ways, my friend in others. You were my friendly competition, who would gladly give his own prep time to help me instead. You were there when I cried. You told me how to get through it, how to do it. You taught me all the important things. You were there, no matter what I did. You were always helping me, always giving me subtle little hints. You gave me advice.

Your friends were always nice to me, always friendly. Your friends became my friends, too. You were there to pick me up when I fell. You would blush when I would compliment you. You would make a point to talk to me and ask how I was. You would ask me to join you for a walk.

And then, she came along.

She was the new me. She was almost exactly the same as me, but a little different, a little less fond of you. She claimed she didn't like you, barely even as a friend. She would always find you though, and always take up your time. She started to get better than me. She started to become more fascinating to you. She was always near you, and you were always with her. She knew what I felt for you, and she scoffed at it. She swore she didn't feel that way towards you. She sure as hell didn't act like it.

And then, I screwed up.

I made it too obvious. I couldn't leave you alone. All I wanted was your company. If we remained as friends, that was good enough for me. But I couldn't hide it. I've never been good about hiding my feelings.

Your friends started to notice, and I'm sure you did, too. You said absolutely nothing. I figured you were just shy. Oh how wrong I was.

You told her that I'm not your type, but that I was "fun for a freshman". How did you expect me to take that? As a compliment? Hardly. Was I not supposed to take it personally? I suppose. That's somewhat difficult when all I could think of was how unworthy I was of you, how undeserving. How you could do so much better, whether others would agree or not. My thoughts were consumed with how much I hated myself for being so repulsive. And all because of your simple, stupid, careless words.

But, it didn't stop there.

No, of course not. You had to make it even worse. You had to laugh at me. Of course, you never let me know how absolutely hilarious it was to see me in pain, to see how much I liked you. You could have at least had the decency to not do it in front of people who would tell me. This would hurt so much less if you'd simply done me that small favor.

No matter how many people say bad things about you, no matter what I find out, I can't bring myself to dislike you, let alone hate you. What is it about you that draws me in? Even as you mock me and cause my heart to hurt, I can't stop feeling something for you. You're not like my other friends.

Hell, are you even a friend anymore?

Am I supposed to think that you are, when you barely talk to me anymore? When you avoid me at all costs? When you speak as little words as possible to me?

I refuse to believe that you hate me. You've made it quite clear that you don't particularly like me anymore. And, if you ever read this, I understand. It's all my fault. If I wasn't so stupid, so annoying, so deserving of everything you said about me, then I wouldn't feel this way. But I've got one year left. One more year of you, until you go away to college and leave me behind. When you're gone, will you even think of me? Ever? Will you remember the younger girl who absolutely adored you, who would have done anything for you? The girl whom you had so much in common with?

Probably not. But I will always, always, always remember you.