A thick layer of smoke hung in the air and alcohol was pouring through the veins of every teenager living the night away in your friends basement. His parents weren't home and cups littered the ground and just about every flat surface. I remember seeing you sitting in the corner. A sad expression engraved in your face and not even the slightest thing could crack a smile out of you. Later that night I found you sobbing on the bathroom floor. I remember the distinct coldness of the tiled floor as I sat next to you. God, your heart was so broken, she really did you in. It was like a thousand tiny pieces of glass laid out on that bathroom floor. I tried so **** hard to pick up all the pieces, and once you saw me trying, your electrifying smile slowly reappeared. My hands has tiny cuts and bruises all over because there was so much of your broken heart to pick up. Once I finished, I looked up to see you were gone. And that's when I realized my mistake. You didn't need me, you just needed someone. Someone to put you back on your feet and send you on your way, not a silly girl whose heart ached for you, not a silly girl who spent that whole night picking up the shards of your breaking heart, not a silly girl who thought for one second, you needed her back.