My sob story. Don't read, or do. I don't really care.

I worked hard to show him I was good, to show him I wasn't just another pretty face that fell for him. It worked, and he was my best friend. I could tell him anything and I was the happiest person ever. I felt like I was walking on clouds. I continued to work my hardest to show him I was worth his time, to show him I was worthy even being near him. That I was worth it. Then he left. He just left as I fell for him, head first. And where did I fall? Face-down in the mud, covered in dirt, blood, and tears. I'll never forgive him for that. Not hate him though, never hate him. Just be mad at him for a while. After he left, my grades plummeted and because I had no one to show I was worthy of them. So, my hole of depression grew larger. When my best friend left, it was already the size of an elephant and now my grades sucked and my parents riled on me about it. Without him, I tried things, was horrid to my family, got into trouble. He wasn't there to guide me and talk me through these things anymore. He basically changed my life for the better but after he left, he changed it for the worst. I started to doubt myself then, became paranoid. What if he switched schools because he hated me? WHat if I annoyed him so much that he just had to leave? And then I started to think, was I not pretty enough? Had I not tried hard enough? Was I not smart enough for him? What did I do wrong? Did he find out that I loved him and then thught that I was a disgusting s*t? I tried to fall in love again, I really did. The man, James, he was sweet, but he didn't remind me of Andrew. I had to break it off with him. I felt James loved me in a s***l way, I felt that energy surrond me when he was near. When I was with Andrew, I felt like a loving energy surrond me. After the breakup with James, I began counting the days until I would see Andrew again. 268 days today. My friends called me crazy. "Stalking Mr. Sim again, Cammy?" They would ask. I didn't care, if I could see my Andrew, I was happy. Then I started to wonder if he thought about me. "Does he think about me? Does he ever stalk my page just to laugh at my comments? Did he ever get depressed because he's spent months away from me?" Well, if he didn't, I do. I wish I could see, talk to, listen to him again. And I'm still thinking of this as I write this, hoping that the tears won't fade these words I write.