You find out who's POV this is at the end. Do NOT skip ahead to find out, please? You won't guess it. I bet you, you won't guess who it is. Or who this mystery 'You' person is. Well, it's kinda obvious to me, you lot are smart too, so you probably pick up on it.

In your review, leave a comment about who you thought the mystery people were.

Slightly stalker-ish. Slight suicide reference. One-sided love.

Italics = Flashbacks.

Except for the poem, which is actually mine. No stealing. Ask politely first :)

? POV

She was never one to envy. Well, maybe she was. I always envied Rosalie Hale. She always had your attention. Yourun-divided, complete attention. It was something I would go to the end of the earth to gain just a minute of.

I knew what you both went through in your own personal hell. You, especially, would come back with scratches and bruises, but smile and laugh it off. Because you had each other.

And I was simply not needed.

But I wanted to be. Oh, you have no idea how much I wanted to be needed by you.

You weren't living though. No, not really. You were just existing. Like I was.

Maybe it was a mutual hate of the world that drew me to loving you? A mutual feeling of always feeling so alone. So hurt.

But I loved you, I wanted you to know you weren't alone.

I existed in a world that was seen in black and white. Right and wrong, where they were right, and we were wrong. Period.

I never could figure out what it was about you that captured my attention. your browny-blonde hair a few shades darker than my own, clear and disturbed eyes. Torturous, pain filled eyes. They way your mere presense just made me not feel so alone anymore. Like maybe, just maybe I wasn't lost.

But I was always forced to watch you from the sidelines.

You wouldn't return the same feelings that I felt. The same attraction that I held for you.

"Rose, we should go to the park after school!" You smiled lovingly up at your older sister. Even at the age of 13 you was incredible to look at. So soft spoken, but so strong willed.

A 16 year old Rose smiled down at you, ruffling your blonde hair.

"Sure thing, half-pint. Wasn't going to go home tonight, anyway."

You smiled up at her with such pride. I watched from my shaded corner. Even from here, I could read your eyes. 'That's my big sister.' You thought.

I wanted someone to hold that attention on me.

I wanted your attention. Was it too much to ask?

The day of Rosalie's death, you avoided school. You never knew, but I was there. With you.

You was walking through the muddied fields, slipping, and crashing into the huge trees scattered everywhere.

I wanted to make myself known, to let you know that you so wasn't alone. That I was here. But how could I?

I watched as you started punching the tree with such a force, I could see the blood from where I stood. Hidden by the leaves of the monstrous tree.

I held the trunk, hiding myself. You screamed, and pounded the tree harder. I actually thought it might break under the force.

You begged for the roles to be reversed. For it to be you who died, not Rosalie Hale.

But I was, in my own morbid way, glad that it was Rosalie. I did not want you to be gone. I needed you. I needed that imaginary fantasy. The one I day-dreamed about. Where I was your rock. Where I was the one you looked at so proudly.

Where I was the one you came to at three o' clock in the morning, crying because you were hurt.

But it was never me. And it never would be me. I guess it never could be me now though, huh?

Because I was always forced to watch from the sidelines.

They said it was not right to feel this way for someone. That I was disgusting, because the one person I had confided in turned against me, because of the feeling I harvested for you.

But I didn't care. I love you... I loved you. No, I still love you. Even now that you're the one that's gone.

I wrote you a poem. One that I made about you. I know-.. Ahem. Excuse me. I knew, how your mind worked. It's still just so hard to realize that you are gone.

If what they say is true, and the stars watch the earth,
Then I'm absolutely terrified that they've seen all I'm worth.
If it's true that a waterfall starts with a single tear,
Then I'm fucking screwed, cause I've none left to spare.

If it's true we live in a world full of hate,
Then why can't we change that? Why is it too late?
If it's true that they fill our head with lies,
Is it okay that have hate shining through my eyes?

From all we've seen and all we've heard,
We've discovered that every single line is now blurred.
If it's true life's a journey, a path to be laid,
Then I'm scared for all the mistakes that I've made.

If it's true that we're all disasters,
Fallen from a height.

Is it okay that I'm afraid,
Because 'They' may be right?

I wanted to ask your views on it. Ask what you thought. But, I figured you would like it. It's dark, just like us. Misunderstood, and often taken the wrong way.

Even now. As I reach out, tracing the head stone that hovered above your grave. I placed my fingers over your engraved name. Scrunching my poem, written on a small slip of white paper.

I wish I had told you. Told you that you weren't so alone. That someone always loved you. However you wanted to be loved.

But I stood on the sidelines, watching you. Maybe it was because I was scared. But the sidelines was where I would stay.

I rest my head against your stone. Because that's what it is. Yours. As much as I don't want to believe it. I know that it is true.

I miss you so much, Bella.

"Jane? We have to go." Alec holds his hand out to me. I glare at him, ignoring his extended limb. I look back at your grave for the last time. Because this is the last time.

I'll be seeing you for real tonight.