Watch 'im walk.

I'd look at him where I sat and wished, deep inside me at the very back of my head, that he'd look back at me that same way. I wanted him to wish for me too. It was shallow, and self-seeking, and wrong, I know. And to be disappointed over something as trivial as that -- it's shameful, really. But it was in the way he never gave me anything substantial, how I could never get it, and how I wished I truly could.

Maybe it was his virtue I wanted and how sure he was of who he was. It was how when he moved, he seemed endless, and flowing and present but elsewhere at the same time.

It was vanity, a constant feeding of needless vanity that caused me this and now I know I can never expect an ounce of feeling from anyone. I could try my very hardest, but I think a lack of effort is probably the best thing there is right now.

This isn't about needing someone more than they need me. We needn't each other. This is about pride and expectations and false protocol that needs to be dealt with; and now, I think it has. It's been made clear. We owe each other nothing but what is demanded of everyone: common courtesy. And that's tragic.

And now I look at him from where I sit, and I can physically feel little bits of my heart chipping off. Because I know that what he's saying is not for me, never for me. And his skin might brush mine, and his eyes might find mine for some reason, but it will never be for the reason I wish it to be.

This is so stupid. I'm writing it and I know it's stupid.