Love?

And there he was. I knew he would never return my feelings. He had made that clear enough. But I still find myself dreaming about him, the moments we shared, and how sure I was that he loved me back. I was so sure that I went ahead and told him the truth. I should have known better. Why should he love me? What gave me that ridiculous idea? Was it even love, or just a girlish fondness? I think it was love. With my nose always in some novel, I thought I knew what love meant. When he rejected me, my friends tried to comfort me. They would tell me he didn’t deserve me, if he couldn’t see how amazing I was. That I would find my someone someday. But they’re wrong, and I know the truth. I don’t deserve him. I don’t deserve anyone. I am, always have been, and always will be, nothing. Unlovable. Does anyone even like me at all, or do they pretend to, for my sake? I don't know why being rejected by him tore me apart inside, while my friends just carried on with their lives. Perhaps because they know that they are loveable. Now I know that I'm depressed, though I've never told anyone. Why should I? My mother will call me ridiculous, and other people might try to "fix" me, but I know I'm beyond fixing. I want to talk to someone who will understand, but I don't know who would. For the moment, I'm alone. And that may be all I'll ever be.