You were perfect. When I met you, everything about you radiated perfection. And when I thought of you, I thought of the future we had together. You were probably the only guy I had ever met that was nice, caring, and considerate towards me. And being a child who had been emotionally abused, i would glom on to whoever showed me any affection. We talked every day, and every day you said something sweet or wonderful, and every day I fell in love with you a little bit more. You had shown me more affection then anyone else ever had, and you had even gone as far as to say I looked perfect. I was soaking up every word you said, thinking that you must like me if you were paying this much attention to me. My friend, my loyal, faithful follower helped me by asking if you had feelings for me. I was convinced you did, after all, you had said I looked pretty. But when you responded with a no, I was broken, crushed. I had loved you, and you had faked your love back, thinking it fun to dangle it in front of me like a carrot. And I fell for it, and you. You stepped on my heart, breaking it and shattering it into a thousand pieces. But what did it matter if I was hurt, depressed, dying a slow painful, agonizing death? You were alright and that was all that mattered. My friend nursed me back to health, hugging me, speaking words of kindness, helping me back onto my feet. I hated you, but at the same time, I still loved you. You were still perfect, still the most wonderful person I had ever met. You impacted me, burning yourself into my mind and heart. And even though I know that you and I will never work, I will always love you, even if from afar.