I don’t know how to be perfect.   I think she likes getting hurt. I think she’d addicted to the pain that comes along with being rejected. I think she loves the pangs of not feeling good enough because that’s what she’s attracted to.   She’s attracted to people who make her feel like that. And how do I know? Because I’m not one of them and for this reason I am no one. I am not her favorite, I am not her first choice, I am not even her first thought.   Things have been this way for the longest I can remember. I try not to let it hurt me, but it still hurts.   I have been here forever, by her side. If she needs someone to talk to I am there. If she needs to vent her frustrations, I am there. If she needs someone to give her advice, I am there.   But in her eyes I don’t exist.   In her eyes I am nothing.   And I just don’t know how to be perfect.