I was never as important to them as they were to me.
I never was. I was never someone they needed to be friends with. They never depended on me like i did with them.
I keep telling myself that's fine. I kept telling myself that was fine. I thought that was fine.
I knew it all along, didn't i? They don't care about me? I always thought that.
I'd worry that i wasn't as important. I was a nuisance. I wasn't wanted. Maybe it was true all along? Why do i care?
I tell myself i shouldn't care. What does it matter anyways? No matter whether it was real or fake all along, i still lose them in the end. So why does it matter?
It matters because i care. Sometimes i care when things seem pointless. Sometimes i care about things that aren't worth caring about. And i guess that applies to people too.
I cared about you a lot, all of you i think. But maybe i was just over obsessing with Thomas. Maybe i just let my obsession spread to the people he cared about.
So i guess despite all of this, I'm back at square one. I'm back to listening to the same old music i listened to in middle school. I'm back with earbuds in class. I'm back with nothing to do because i don't want to see anyone.
I'm back with loving falling asleep, and hating waking up. I'm back with my intrusive thoughts. I'm back with using Georgia as my escape pod for a few weeks in the summer.
I'm back with nothing. Nothing but the echo of songs that make me upset. With the places that i can't go anymore. With the dreams that hold everything that is lost. With the nightmares that wake me up calmly.
I'm back with my thoughts, wishing i were more. Wishing i were something somebody wanted. I'm back with never being enough for myself. I'm here.
I'm going back to work soon.
Swim is over, I'm getting a membership at a gym.
I'm pushing my only friends away again.
I can't love them, i wish i could.
Maybe it's temporary, this loss of care. Maybe i didn't ever care at all.
I based all of my problems off of theirs. I cut because they all did. I starved because they pointed it out. I cried because i missed them. I worked hard to look good for him.
But now, all of these problems are my own. I want to cut because i love the way i look with blood all over me. I want to starve because i could never bear to gain weight. I cry because of everything I've lost, even if it actually wasn't too much. I work hard because i want to be presentable.
I've always been a tidy person.
I clean my dishes after i use them, i keep my school work organized, even if I'm avoiding doing it. I keep my room sparkly clean. I change my sheets often, and i make my bed.
Well, i used to.
I've started noticing that I've been slacking.
My room is a mess.
I avoid doing chores.
I've fallen behind in math and history, and I'm making no effort to get back up.
It hurts to be here right now.
The white lights on the ceiling hurt my head.
My drink is too sweet.
My mouth tastes dry.
The music isn't loud enough.
I wish everyone would shut up.
I wish i could have stayed home today.
I just want to fall asleep again.
Maybe I'll dream about them again? Maybe I'll fall back asleep and lie to myself. Maybe I'll close my eyes and be with my friends again.
Sometimes i see them. I see them often actually. I fall asleep each night and I'm visited by the people i wish would even look at me. I'm visited by the people i wish would come over, even if they hate me. I just want to see them again.
But i wake up at five in the morning now. I wake up from that heaven, and it's dark in my room. The sun hasn't risen. The curtains are shut. But i wake up, and i get out of my bed. I walk through the hallway and i go to the bathroom. I run a bath.
I run a bath each morning.
I used to bathe with friends, that was funny.
I used to shower with them too.
I used to lay in my bed for hours with them.
I used to have sleepovers with them in my room.
I used to have to fight for my own blanket cause there were so many of us.
They pointed out pictures on my ceiling and walls.
Half of my clothes are theirs.
My walls are painted by them.
This city is painted by them.
There are places that i can't go anymore. There are so many.
Circle K on Dorsey.
The graveyard on Dorsey as well.
The graveyard by my house.
Jack Roberts park.
I can't walk home from school.
Sheetz Downtown
Downtown at all.
My own house.
My own bathroom.
My own room.
My own closet.
My own bed.
I can't exist correctly. I can't be here without staring into space. I keep drowning myself in memories, am i even trying to get over them?
I spend my nights listening to the music they liked, laying with the blankets they fought over, scrolling through the pictures we were going to use for our photo album.
I haven't taken the pictures of them off of my walls.
I haven't given his pants back.
I haven't changed at all.
I bet they have already moved on. I bet they don't miss me. I bet they hang out and smoke and drink and laugh without me in the back of their mind. Without me.
They don't need me at all, they never did. That hurts a little. I guess I've always put myself higher than i should have.
I think too proudly, i need to face reality. I'm nothing special, even the people i hold dearest have kicked me to the curb. What does that mean for me?