You. You did all the things. All the cliche things that guys do to girls in movies. Things that give the girl heart palpitations and shaky fingers. Things that put a smile on her face for the rest of the scene. Things that you yearn to happen to you. Things, even subtle, meaningless things, found their meaning in my heart. Things that you did. The way you would look at me. The way that I would see you staring at a distance, and never turn away. The smile that we would mirror to each other, even though it would take you some time to break my barrier. The moments where you would try to make me laugh, and it worked. Cue the smile on your face. The time you decided to be a part of my social media life. The time you decided you didn’t want your hair to get soaked from the rain so you chose to stand under my source of dryness. The time you subtlety decided to tell me your feelings, but you never showed them or brought it up again. The time you decided to tell me you miss me casually without actual proof. The time you decided to embrace me unexpectedly, with a request of reciprocation. All these things. All of these things girls see in movies, wishing it would happen to them and you did almost all of them. So why don’t I feel complete? Why am I not driving into a marvelous sunset with you in the car? Why are we not headed to the captions and the “The End?” Our movie never got a “The End.” Because there was hardly ever an us. There was an us. But there was never an us. There was always that distraction of reality. Where I was never really “your girl.” Or your “close friend.” To find out I was never special hurts. But to find out we were never actually friends hurts more. Then you started to pass me by without an utterance. You started to look at me like you didn’t even know me. I was just another victim. A victim of your boyish charm and flirting ability. One of the many that were affected. And I fell. Our happy ever after is non-existent. Frankly, I don’t even remember the last time we interacted. But it’s sad to think that I actually have to go back in my memory box to remember the last time that you actually could look me in the eye.