not quite the perfect girl
12:03 p.m.

You write such beautiful words and I hate you for it. Each time I read one of your perfectly constructed sentences I want so desperatly to fall in love with you. Do you know that I disolved into tears when I read your entry about me? I felt unworthy because I am not the perfect girl you describe me as - I am not any of the things you describe me as - and yet you seem so consumed with adoration. I don't deserve your lovely words, but you dispense them anyway.

I love you more than you will ever know - I love talking to you and watching you play and drinking together, even though all we do is sit and complain about our lives. But I'm not in love with you. Everytime your diary moves me (which is almost everytime I read it) I want to be in love with you, but the truth is clear to us both. *He* is still there, still on the edge of my mind and my heart, all the time. And I can see your friendship falling apart under the strain of it - of you loving me and me loving him - and it only increases my guilt.

The best I can give you is this - I want nothing to do with him, and I never want to be without you. But I still feel those pangs when he looks at me, and they're still absent when you do, so I suppose that will never be enough.

I'm sorry. I love you enormously, but not as you would like me to. The perfect girl would love you properly, but I am not the perfect girl you perceive me to be. I'm sorry.

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