I’m the little girl with the bad front bangs and striped knee high socks from kindergarten who was your first friend. I’m the little girl who was your spelling partner in first grade. I’m the little girl who walked you to the office when you skinned your knee in second grade. I’m the girl who tied your shoes in third grade, because you still couldn’t. I’m the girl who didn’t laugh at your braces in fourth grade. I’m the girl who almost confessed her ‘love’ to you during the pilgrim project in fifth grade. I’m the girl who introduced you to my best friend, and watched you like her instead of me in sixth grade. I’m the girl who listened to all of your problems and never made fun of you in junior high. I’m the girl who is still dragged to your family’s parties and sits in the corner and reads. I’ve known you for twelve years. I’m the girl that pathetically and unreasonably loves you. I’m the girl who’s pretty sure you’ve forgotten exists.