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missmadisings

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I loved him. It was that simple. It was a fact. Nothing would ever change it. Nothing would ever make it go away. I loved him and that was that. But. But he didn’t love me. He didn’t want me or need me in a way that made his stomach quiver when he thought my name. He was just my friend. My best friend. And he was perfect and wonderful and a whore. There really was no way around it. The boy always had one girl or another draped over his arm. Then he would discard her and another would show up not a day later. But he didn’t know the way I felt about him. He didn’t know that the only thing that kept me smiling while my heart was shredding inside of my chest was the thought of him with me in his arms. Me in his bed. Me pressed against his lips. I loved him enough to spare him. I knew that he didn’t love me. How could he when I was so extraordinarily plain and boring. I didn’t look like a girl in a porn magazine or a model. I was just me. Just plain old Sarah. That was why I was doing this. I loved him enough to do this. I loved him enough to kill myself. After all, it really was the only way.