Well, I actually just got back from the retreat for school. It was pretty nice. No hairs on the bed or pillows; the food wasn’t poisoned; a bathroom for our room; and of course nice roomates are a plus too. Oh and I actually achieved a goal of writing a poem/song that didn’t start, end, or have any death in it! It’s called, Just The Right Dose (All I Want To Hear). I know, i know you’re wondering if I’m so happy what could I possibly have to rant about ALREADY?
Have you ever felt like you mean absolutely nothing to your friends? Like the only reason they talk to you is because they’re supposed to since they’re your friends. But it shouldn’t be a duty to talk or be friends with someone, should it? Tell me I’m being overdramatic; tell me something I don’t expect.
But why is it I feel like I’m just the back-up listener, if anything to them at all? It’s like if they need help, they come to me because I’m the one who doesn’t get in trouble and will actually care. And then once someone says, “okay, I guess I’ll listen.” I’m dumped faster than the moldy sushi you dropped under the table three months ago?
I thought best friends meant “I’ll be here for you, always.” I guess it’s more like, pretend best friends means “I’ll say I’m here, but you weren’t ever worth shit to me.” Is that just the unsaid, obvious definition when someone says, “you’re my best friend”? What happened to the fine line between best friends and friends? What happened to recognizing when someone if just a friend, not a best friend? Maybe it’s just the expectation that anyone you talk to thinks of you as their “best friend” that has shielded the ability to differ the two. This has everyone trying to keep there friends and therefore pretending to be a best friend by saying what they think they should say. I guess I am at fault for this too. Faking a smile for their face and saying I will always agree.
Where did the truth go? I remember just two years ago I was saying to my “best friend” that I hated her for always insulting me and putting me down infront of others to make her look cool and raise her confidence. I mean, look what happened to mine! But now it brings the fact that I’m always expected to just forgive her after a day or two. What if I’m not ready to just forget all the damage she’s done to me?
What if I want What if I need to stay bitter? Don’t I deserve that for everytime she said my shirt made me look fat, for everytime she said my teeth were yellow, for the times she called me “snake lips” because my lips were chapped and peeling?
They say words can only hurt you if you let them, but I’m not strong. And I won’t say I am. I can’t just turn my head and ignore everytime she started a mock-fest about me. It’s stings. No, it doesn’t just sting. It hurts like a fucking bitch.
Maybe it’s good she lies to me and badly pretends to be my best friend, but why do I have to continue to act like an actual best friend?! Where did all the truly nice people go? Why do they always turn out hating me? Am I that horrible?
Empty promises of hearts and wonderland, I see through you; no, I won’t run with you.
“You are weathered and worn
Your petals soft and torn
The fading color
You have bent your shoulders
To hold the weight of the world
You will surely shatter.”