I Love You The Worst

I'm a horrible person. There, I said it. It is likely that there are many people who have now sighed in relief at the admittance of my own horribleness, including the boy in my first grade class whom I once punched in the teeth- he stole my graham cracker!- as well as my own parents, bless them. But Rose would  never call me horrible, and that only makes it worse. 

Rose is beautiful, like her name. Her sparkling laugh and golden-brown hair and clever eyes are all beautiful. So of course I love her,  wholly and stupidly, because everyone does. She loves me too, wholly and platonically, because she loves everyone that way. And it's the fact that I love her in a way she could never love me that makes me so revoltingly, puke-inducingly horrible.

Rose doesn't love me. She loves Blake, and Blake isn't beautiful. At least he's not horrible. He's...Blake. And the sad truth is that all Blakes are the same. 

I'm going too quickly here. I'm Ella, and I love girls, and I especially love Rose, and Rose loves boys, especially Blake. 

Yes, this is one of those stories. I'm not sorry for that. For like I said, I am horrible.