I miss him. I miss laying beside him, both of us naked and tangled in the sheets... the way his voice gets lazy as sleepiness sets in... putting my hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat... I am falling in love with this boy. It's so painful to be The Other Woman. Painful, but marked with intermittent periods of pure joy that somehow make the pain worthwhile. I miss him. I miss him so much that sometimes I say his name, just to hear how it sounds, and let my mind wander to him. Then he begins to haunt my mind afresh. I'm so nervous about the party tonight. He will be there, with HER, the ungrateful cow who rightfully can call that angel her own... I'm terrified that they'll be affectionate, and so afraid that he's lying to me when he says that they're breaking up... I. Love. Him. This could get messy.