I asked a friend why she was so depressed all the time, when I distinctly remember her being the happiest person I knew.
She looked at me with sadness in her eyes, and told me;

"What happens if she's your Juliet, but you're not her Romeo? Or in my case, her Romiette? No matter what you do, you can't seem to get her attention, or you can't explain why, but you know for sure that you both supposed to grow old together. And everyday, you want to slap yourself in the face, because everyday you're reminded that she don't run the way you do.

And your silly little heart had to love that person.

Of all the people in the world.
You had to love her.

But she doesn't love you back. No, she judges you for what you are, for your uniqueness. For being different, and for being f***ing PROUD of that difference, she despises your very existence.

And your friends. Oh, f***. Your friends dude. They tell you she's just another girl in this world, but she is my f***ing world.

My day brightens when she smiles, darkens when she cries. And I live for the days she notices me. OH, she may look at me with hate, but I'd rather get noticed then not at all in any way. But I just wish... for once, she'd take a chance with me.

She goes for all those jocks that want her, or those swag kids that want a popularity spike, and because of that, she doesn't respect herself.

She looks at me with disgust, but underneath it all, I see just a flicker of respect. Because I'm doing what she wishes she could do.
Stand up for herself.

And take pride in it.

You know I met her at a rave with Goth clothes and fake piercings? Yeah, and she danced with a bunch of lesbians. But no, she'd rather fit in, grow less of a brain, and be popular.

Why don't she want me man? Why don't she love me like I love her? That's all I ever did with her. Love her.

She broke down crying, and I walked her home. Last day of school, she tried to talk to the girl, and she ended up getting mauled.
And two days later, her body was found at home with a suicide note and cut wrists. She was the oldest out of five. She was my best friend.
And now, she's gone. The girl came to the funeral with a letter. In the funeral she explained her fears, her hopes and her respect. And she left town soon after that.