I hate those late night thoughts where nothing else is on my mind but him. I hate them because all I do is wonder if I had tried harder, or done something differently maybe it would be me under his arm instead of her. I just don’t get it. I was the one up until 3 am with him every night. Not her. I rushed to his house the second he said he wasn’t alright. Not her. I did everything I could think of; dressed nicer, went to his competitions and games, even went on a new diet to lose some weight. And it still wasn’t enough. But he doesn’t know how i feel. How I felt about him then or what I feel now. I’m just a friend to him. And being his friend has been both the most wonderful and painful thing I’ve ever experienced.