You looked at me, your eyes wide. You were drenched in the bitter rain and I saw it.  The deep, deep confusion.
      "What?" You said through the rain, which made it seem as though there were tears streaming down your face. But you were tougher than that. I knew you were.
      "I didn't mean for you to find out this way. And the fact that we're standing here in the rain is making this whole thing seem a little too cliché. I'm sorry."
                                                  ...
     
      That was five years ago. Your name was Daniel. Still is, I can safely assume. The thing is, you were right that day. What I had told you was wrong. I had told you I liked ice cream more than cake.
     It doesn't seem like a big deal now, but we were 12 then, and these kinds of opinions were the foundation to a good relationship.
     We were so close. We always talked (well I always talked-you always listened), we always texted, we always stayed together. When your dad died, when my dog ran away, we were always there for each other. What happened?

                                                 ...

      We never talk now. We see each other in passing, I might awkwardly nod or smile, and you might return the gesture. I miss when we'd talk for hours on end about movies and art and music. I miss the smile that would take up your whole face and make me feel at least slightly more at ease.
      I always wonder if you ever think about me, when you see me coming out of my English or science class. I wonder if you like my t-shirt that day, as you're the only one that has ever understood my weird obsession with cute graphic t-shirts with little illustrations on them.
      I wish I could say I've made a ton of new friends and that I don't need you anymore. But I have almost no friends and the friends that I do have drive me up the metaphorical wall. This doesn't go over well in a school setting, where everyone is pressured to have a million friends and sit at a full lunch table rather than sit alone and read a good book.
      But don't you dare feel bad for me. I love being alone. I cherish the time when I can sit and close my eyes and listen to music. I don't need you, per say, but when I am forced to be around people, I wouldn't hate to be forced to interact with you.
     
                                                  ...

    If this were a typical teen angst story, I would say "but it all turned around in a way I would never expect in a million years. You gave light to my constellations, and you are mine forever."
      But that is not, in fact how this will go. I care about you still, but the feeling isn't mutual. We are nearing adulthood, and I look back on my memories with you and smile. But I realize now that no matter how much I don't want to, I have to move on.
      I still like ice cream better than cake. And you're just going to have to deal with it.
     Talk to me if you want to. I'd really appreciate it. But I will no longer wonder every time I see you if you like my T-shirt. I like it. And I'm finally content without you, without your opinion. I'm finally happy with me without you.