**author's note**
amanda, this story is all for you. this is a concept that i myself have been struggling with for along time and now i think i've finally come to terms with it. i want you to remember that someday you'll have your chance, i promise, just wait. and that day you'll touch his heart because you truly are an amazing girl. you need to remember that everything comes to people in turn, and that he does appreciate you even though he doesn't know you, you are part of the reason he's living his dream. now i don't think that taylor is anything like this although it's possible, it just fits the prupoe of my story, i also am not implying that amanda is a teeny bopper (i know she's far from it) the image i give is that of any fan who is meeting their idol, from a jaded star's point of veiw. thanks, and continue on to the story...

.forgotten.

She looked at him, eyes brimming with dreams and adoration. He looked back, unable to break the eye contact they held. His sickeningly blue eyes swam with hypocritical joy, more appropriately disguised aversion.

He didn't really hear her words, mostly because he didn't want to, though the ringing of feminine shrieks clouded his ears. He really had no need to hear what she was saying anyway, they all said the same things. "We love you, you're perfect, you're so sexy, have my child. . ." Did they even understand? Probably not.

She rambled on, senseless noises spilling forth from her glossy lips; it was likely that she was declaring undying love, things he didn't care to hear. She was absorbed in herself and in herself being thisclose to him, that she didn't notice the forced smiles or the bored air. He had to get away before he laughed at her or said something that he would undoubtedly regret later on.

He couldn't remember when this had gotten so damn annoying, but somewhere along the line it had. He could still remember how bad he used to want this; he remembered the years spent pining for this attention. All he knew now was that this, all the attention, all the screaming and hysteria, had become too much for him to handle. It was too superficial, so superficial that it stung deep into him. It should have been about the music not his pretty face. He wanted things to turn around but as long as these girls kept screaming they could never break free of this stereotypical prison.

And he looked at her, trying so hard to understand. He wanted to know why they were the way they were. But he couldn't, he guessed he never would. Not unless one them stopped screaming long enough to put two intelligent sentences together. He tried so hard to see why they said they loved him, this wasn't the love he's learned. And the screaming and tears were so beyond him, so incomprehensible that it scared him. He needed to understand.

His tight-lipped smile fell as he opened his mouth to speak. He didn't think twice though subconsciously he knew he should have. The words were burning his tongue and he had to let them fall off, he hoped she'd shut-up for a second and listen to what he had to say. This may be his only chance.

"Do you know what you look like?" the words were harsh, he regretted the hot tone immediately, and they soured as the rolled off of his tongue. They sounded so much better unsaid, but it was too late to turn back now.

Her face dropped countless volumes, all traces of joy that had once been there were now gone. He could see her lower lip tremble and her eyes no longer brimmed with dreams and adoration but with salty tears. She struggled to hold them back as she choked past the lump rising in her throat and spoke to him softly. Her tone changed considerably, just as the look in her eyes had moments ago, they reflected her emotions so clearly he noted.

"No, what do I look like?" she looked hard into his eyes, he couldn't lie his way out of it now.

"You look amazingly foolish to me. Freaking out, babbling the same things as every other girl has, holding back shrieks, just foolish. . ." they slipped out like lava spewing from a volcano before he considered them. Suddenly he stopped, mid thought, "I-I'm not thinking. I should shut up. I just don't get it, if-if I were in the situation I'd be so ashamed." And he looked down for a moment.

"But you're not. See, somehow I don't think you could understand this for a moment. Maybe not even after someone explained it to you. This isn't some facade and it's not something I can easily describe, there's too much to it."

"Well, please do try, don't let me stop you," her glare didn't warm and he tried in vain to look away again but her misty blue eyes held his in place.

"Could you for a moment put yourself in my shoes?"

"Well. . .I," she cut him off quickly, it was apparent that that was a rhetorical question.

"No, you couldn't, and I can't out myself in yours. One thing's for sure though, you can't possibly understand where I'm coming from if you don't open up. Don't look at me with that apparent disgust in your eyes, not only does it not suit you but I'm not like every other girl. You put us in the same mold but we're all as different from each other as you are from you brothers, you choose not to see it. And you don't listen to us anymore. We're not all airheads and mist of us can tell when you're yessing us to death, like you were just before. You've lost faith in us and you know what? We're losing faith in you too."

His mouth hung slightly agape, was she right? Did they all know was it coming to an end? "What?"

"I know you heard me, this time you were listening. And I can't for a minute pretend it's not true."

"But. . ." he quickly shut his mouth when she shot him a look that clearly read, 'I'm-not-done-talking-and-you-certainly-aren't-done-listening'.

"I know you and your family have given up a lot and taken on ten times more, we all do. None of us pretend to know how hard this is on you, we can't even fathom it," she paused, licking her dry lips. "But somehow I get the feeling that you haven't felt so connected to someone you don't even know for the past year and al half, that it hurts. I doubt that your palms are sweating, your hands are shaking," she held up a trembling hand as if she needed proof, "and your heart is beating a million times a second because for the first time in your life you're this close to them. To the one person who seems to understand all your feelings and shares himself with the world so selflessly."

"I-I. . ." he couldn't find the words. Sighing with frustration he let her continue.

"I could ask you if you remember any of the girls you've met in the past year, but I already know the answer. No. You don't remember them; they don't mean anything more than another record sale to you. But strangely enough they can't get away from you. You're on their minds all the time you're an inexorable piece of their lives. I'll wager that they remember every second of their encounter so acutely that it may has well have happened 30 seconds ago but you don't even remember their names or faces. Isn't that funny to know, because that's how it really is.

"I could ask you if you remember a word of what I said when we first met, but you don't. You weren't listening at all. I bet you think I said I love you, nut I didn't, and so what if I had? I know you don't understand it, I'm not sure if I do either, but I know I do love you. Not the way my mother loves my father, this is 100 times different. Love is too big to be encompassed by any definition but people forget that and let society dictate what love has to be. But I know that you have touched my soul, brightened my day and helped me through a lot of tough times. I know that you seem to understand my thoughts and feelings better than I do, I know I admire and respect you for all you've done," she paused, "do you see what I mean?"

He nodded, words escaping him again. She was right. But he'd lost so much time, could he ever make it up? Could he win back their faith?

"My job is done," she smiled slightly, "just don't you go forgetting what I said now. Forgetting could cost you more than you even realize." Her smile disappeared as quickly as it had come and was replaced with a knowing pout and she turned, blonde hair flying over a retreating shoulder.

"Wait!" he called after her diminishing frame, as soon as the words came back to him. She turned to face him but came no closer.

"What's your name?"

"Amanda," she shouted back and turned to continue on. She still had faith, he'd returned it to her.

"I won't forget, Amanda, I won't forget. . ." he spoke long after she was out of ear shot, he knew she couldn't hear him, he didn't care, that wasn't the point. And he wouldn't forget she'd restored his faith in the girls. He always had been missing something and somehow she'd given it to him that night, now he'd never let go.

And he remembered then how he always had thought those girls were amazing, he'd just forgotten.