I’m begining to realize that everything, and everyone, all of the daily crisis and drama, it’s all just bullshit. None of it really matters. But we make it matter, we want it to matter so we can feel important, involved. It could be a rumor, a boyfriend, a failing class, or self-inflicted pain. None of it matters. Ten years from now we’ll have trouble remembering the names of the people who are our “best friends”. Well forget that they hurt us. Well heal. Which brings me to the temporary things, which are also everything. Unless you get pregnant, see someone die, or have a constant reminder of something then it’s not going to matter in the future. Why do we base our whole world around who is saying what about who? Because it’s bullshit. Because we need a distraction from being a child, from being unwanted. Real friends don’t spread lies. Remember that.
I love seeing people the way they truely are. Sometimes it’s beautiful, and other times it’s monstrous. But no matter who you are, you have a little bit of both in you. People are selfish, rude, selfrighteous liars. But they can also be filled with kindness and loyalty, compassion and a willingness to be there no matter what. I want to be the best of what’s inside of me. And there are about five people in this world that make me that way. Ashley, Kristina, William, Jenni, and Zachary.
I always feel like I want to go home. Even when I am at my place of residence. Where is my home? Of all the places I’ve lived or people I’ve lived with, I still haven’t established where home is. Or who my real family is. Or what it means to love and be loved. Teach me.
Everything you say drags me down, everything you do puts me into a depression. Every time I try to make things right it’s me who’s “in the wrong”. I’m starting to realize that your friendship is you using me up then blaming me when things don’t go your way. Everything is my fault when you ditch me, everything is my fault when you hurt me, everything is my fault when I try to help you out. I’m done. I’m getting pretty good at loosing people lately. Thanks for making it easier.
You thought you could play me again.
Not this time.
You thought I’d just drop everything to make you happy.
Not this time.
You thought you had me wrapped around your finger so tight that it was cutting of the circulation.
Not this time.
What’s wrapped around you, punk, is that web of insecurity, a tangled mess of your constant need for attention and approval. And love.
Which is something that I’ve finally realized, I don’t have to give you anymore. Because I want someone else. Someone who cares for me back.
I think if you understood that I know what you’re playing at, and that I’m not just a dumb girl, you’d realize what you lost. So here’s to you, kid. Hope she finds out you’re a liar, a cheat, and actually worthless in life, as well as in the bedroom.