Johnny Boy.

I could see our entire future developing right before my eyes; unfortunately, you didn't seem to receive the same premonition.
When we first met, you told me your name was John. Later I found out you were also called Johnny. It bothered me that you didn't share the other name with me, but only slightly.
I really started to get irritated when they started talking to you, and you clearly preferred it to conversing with me. You shared a friend with her, and it made me desire to find something to share with you.
Anything.
Later when you told her (the taken girl, nonetheless) that her belt was "tight," it made me jealous. Not of the belt, of course, because it was drop dead ugly, but because you liked something of hers. And it was at that moment that I realized that I would never be skinny enough for you (even though I'm thinner than average), never pretty enough, my hair would never be shiny and smooth enough.
All in all, I could never have you.
After she showed you where the bathroom was, and when you came back you jumped over the side of the rail while simultaneously removing your button-down shirt to reveal a homemade tye-dye t-shirt
Your slim frame had my saliva glands working over-time, preparing to devour you like the beast that you are.
And of course when you resumed your position next to me on the couch, you also resumed ignoring me.
When you began talking to everyone else surrounding us, I knew all hope was lost. You would never be mine; with your dark sideburns, pale skin, short body with a height that matched mine.
I thought I was friendlier, I thought I was nicer, I thought I was funnier.
But apparently you did not, because the only time you would talk to me was when no one was watching.
I would be forever in your debt if you acknowledged my existence.