I knew from the beginning how the story would end. She was beautiful, with piercing blue eyes and a smile that would stop any heart. Her curves were abundant but perfect for her. From the moment my gaze locked with those icy blues, I was hooked.

It's funny how years of friendship can roll by in secret tension. Both parties holding a secret adoration for the other. Neither side saying a word. Years roll by and opportunities fade into nothingness. Years roll by and you're left choking on your own stupid regrets.

Imagine my surprise when she at last expressed interest- in me, of all people. Imagine my incredulousness. She was too good to be true. People like her... are always beyond my reach. Always.

But there she was, and despite all my initial suspicion and aloofness -she was too good to be true- I found myself growing captivated. Sure, there were factors that made us... unconventional. But the little things reeled me in. Her shared passions for art, writing and music. Her love of punk music and old horror films. Her playfulness and witty banter. The glimpses of naughtiness that had my head spinning. Most of all... she had a spooky heart and it resounded just wonderfully with mine.

And the way she doted on me! Early on, she asked for a photo of myself, one that would be hers and only hers. It was nothing risque or scandalous... just hers. "You're beautiful, like a porcelain doll," she said "I think that's what I'll call you. My doll." And so it was, from then on: she would address me as "Doll" and I would grin stupidly with the delight of having a pet name that was mine and only mine.

I never fell in love with her. We never even got anywhere, though promises of dates to art museums and to bars were frequently made and then broken. Promises of watching Vincent Price movies all through the night came to nothing. Friends scolded me. They told me not to try. They told me not to chase her with the same breath they told me to stop waiting around for...him. But, as my heart belongs to another, whom I'll never get to call my own... I saw nothing wrong with trying to find happiness elsewhere. I know my real happiness is out of reach, so why not look for the next best thing? Though at times, she seemed like the best. We were so compatible it was unreal, and the special moments we shared, the ones I keep near and dear to my heart, worked her into my veins like a drug. No, I was never in love with her -is it even possible for me to love again?- but what I felt for her was the most real thing I've felt in months. I never fell in love with her, but my gods I wanted the chance to. I saw the potential to fall in love within her, which I cannot say for anyone else.

Things fell apart slowly. The excuses started, then the lies. Little things. I never had any concrete proof but in my heart I just -knew-. Little things turned into big things. She actually broke my heart, yet soothed it with her silver tongue and I stayed. She broke my heart again. I swore to walk away. Yet I have always been and will always be a fool. I talked a big game of leaving, yet replied to her damned texts as soon as she sent them.

Then, would you believe it? I saw her out with a guy. I watched helplessly as she talked happily and easily to him on the other side of the restaurant window while my brother tried to convince me it was a case of mistaken identity. This is only supposed to happen in movies, but it was real. She denied being there. I wanted to believe her. But things of beauty are the easiest to memorize and my gods, she is stunning. I've had years of the silent study born of captivation behind my belt. It was definitely her.

She suddenly grew distant. Facebook informed me that she was now in a relationship with a guy who looked suspiciously like the same guy I saw her with. Confirmation of her lying stung, but with a pain dulled by repetition. I tried my damnedest to forget her. After all, I've known from the beginning how this would end- with her growing bored of me.

But, just as suddenly, she became adoring and flirtatious again. She started bringing up things like our very first conversation and how adorable I seemed to her back then. She called me "beautiful" and other such flattery. And even though I hadn't heard it in what feels like weeks, she was greeting me with "Hey, doll!" again. This has been my past week, in between bouts of illness.

Today, I finally mentioned her boyfriend. Today, I had my first real argument with her, when I was conscious long enough to answer her texts. Today, I took the first steps to closing that door, as much as it pains me to do so. I cried bitterly, not so much from heartbreak -I'm so used to that feeling nowadays- but from the fact that so much of her was perfect for me and we would have been so amazing together.

But people like her -people who have everything I want in a relationship- are always beyond my reach.

Always.