If you can't hang.

He likes my best friend. I know it.

I can feel it. I sense these things, I know when someone likes someone, and he likes her. He feels about her the same way I feel about him. It's so obvious.

For starters, I've just been told that he never Skypes one on one with girls. He always asked to Skype with her. He's never asked to Skype with me.

He said her name was one of the prettiest names he's heard. Come on.

He talks to her first. Pops up on Facebook. Texts her. Does he ever do that with me? No. I always have to have the first word.

He wants her.

And he doesn't want me.

Of course he'd want her not me, I mean just look at her. She's perfect. Her hair always looks good, no matter what. She's beautiful, slim. Hilarious, of course. Everybody loves her, and so does he. It's not fair.

I'm sat here, drowning in imperfections, clinging onto the hope he feels the same way. I'm doing this while he sits in his room, thinking of her.

It's not fair.

For once I just want it to happen to me. To fall for someone, and for them to fall for me too. I want him to look at me, and see me the way I see him. I want him to get butterflies in his stomach whenever I pop up on Facebook. I want him to spend ages thinking of the perfect response, instead of just putting some one word reply.

I want him to want me.