On the first night
There are tears of regret, of longing, of fear for the next day

On the second night
There are tears from the memories, bittersweet reading about her first kiss

On the third night
Eyes are dry. Feeling is lost. There is no happiness and so there must be sorrow, that only makes sense

On the fourth night
She smiles thinking of her friends, more specifically her best and their arms around each other

On the fifth night
She dries her eyes for the last time about him and embraces the thought of her

On the sixth night
He ignored her in the hall this day and now she's laughing about it, "awesome friends" her ass

On the seventh night
Sleeping peacefully and dream of past, present, future. He is past. She is present, future, and forever. If only she'll accept that role.