something in our relationship had changed

She cringed slightly and twisted away. I plushed my kiss a little harder, smiling.
"Not now," she said. She sunk deeper into the down comforter that covered her bed. She was in another world, one titled The Golden Compass, I wanted her back in mine. But no longer did she seem to want to be there. The joy that surged through me everytime she touched me hadn't enlivened my cells in a long time. At first she needed me. She needed me with her, to hold her, to kiss her. And I needed her like I needed oxygen. But now she read. She took herself away from me. She drifted through a world where demons talked to young girls who witnessed poisonings. She left me sitting, waiting for old men to die on the page before it could turn and I could have her to myself again. But she never wanted to turn the page.
"Let's do things with 'other people' for once," she said and tore my heart out. So we spent the evening with "other people". She laughed and giggled and tickled "other people". She devoted her attention to "other people". I beat the ground with a stick, I sat on the floor and died, unbeknownst to "other people". Alone. She lived and loved in other worlds with "other people".
"My best friend's coming over," she said and I died a little more. They sat and laughed at old memories caputred in still. Memories I never had, inside jokes I'd never know: I could never compare. I, who was "needed", was useless, was second rate.
I cried. She tried to sympathize but she knew that something had changed.
The weekend was over; I would never come to see her again.