|To love your best friend...
||[Jun. 4th, 2008|11:32 pm]
In the corner of my room sits a stuffed monkey, whose name has long since been forgotten, his dark brown fur once fluffy is now matted. The details are blurry but I will always remember the boy who gave me that monkey and remember the love I had for him. He was my best friend.|
It's a pattern that I have yet to break. I've been in love three times and each time it was with that one person who my world revloves around. The person who I have the most fun with and want to be with all the time. I think about him constantly and talk to him mutiple times a day. I try to figure if he feels the same way, and once I see that he want to be friends, I try to get him to fall in love with me. (Because I'm better than anyone else he could possibly date). This love is all consuming and drains my energy from other people and I can see my friends getting tired of talking about it. I keep my hope inside, glowing like a candle, waiting for him to ignite our love. The love that is ment to be, because we are such good friends and just fit so well together.
The story usually ends the same. They leave or I leave and we stop talking eventually. They become a distant memory. A ghost of what could have been.
Rich is no different than those other boys and I am no different than who I was when I was in love with Mark Williams. And that is sad.