i wanted to hate her.

god, i wanted to, so badly ; it would make everything so much easier, so much simpler, but i couldn't. how could i ?

i paused on the sidewalk outside the window to the café she still worked at, watching her at the counter, her smile genuine, her gray eyes warm. everyone liked her, and why shouldn't they ? there was nothing wrong with her. she was the model student, the model friend, and yet there was nothing fake about her, and that was something almost impossible to achieve.

heather, heather.

i wish i was you.