"I can't believe it..." I whisper to myself. My throat feels like sandpaper and my eyes are swollen and full of tears. I tried to hold them back as long as I could but they fall down before me, reminding me of how weak I am. I tear my eyes away from the horrible scene and run out of the building. I don't look back, just run. I run down the street and avoid my shortcut through the park. We walked there before. I run the long way because the short way is now a cold reminder of our past. I run to my backyard, but it's all too familiar. He held my hand next to the pond, he held me in his arms on this very grass, he kissed me... under that tree. My stomach feels like its fighting me and I get the sudden urge to throw up. I swallow it back down and sit on my knees in the grass. The tears are like a stampede, one after the other, cascading down my face. Those lips, that face, his hands-- All a lie. The lips he was actually saving for her, to carress and love her. I was just a replacement. The other guy was right. He was just lonely. I should've listened. But I couldn't; I wanted to believe in him one more time. I just had to know if his words were true. I'm such a fool. I can't even my show my face at school again. I'd be the laughing stock of the entire building. Why do we always fall for the guys who hurt us the most? Why do we turn our backs on the guys who really love us? It's too late. My real love, the one i didn't even love back, wouldn't take me back anyway. Not after I hurt him, pushed him away... no, he'd hate me. He'd probably laugh too. I feel so stupid. The horrible picture of him and her replays through my mind over and over. " I love you." she whispers to him. His beautiful smile spreads across his face, but its not for me. " I love you, too" he whispers back. Their lips touch. My whole world spins and grows dark as the scene replays over and over. " I thought you loved me" I whisper and the words flow out and are carried away by the wind, reaching the ears of noone. Then my stomach lurches, and I throw up.