He walked into my life. He must have been a blessing from God. Sometimes I feel like he was sent here just for me. He came to be there for me. He wants to know what’s wrong. He wants me to be okay. You could care less about me. You put your other friends above me because they mean more to you then I do. I know that you wouldn’t, you couldn’t choose me over them. They could beat you. My problems are just a little chapter in your book that you skim, that you peer and then keep reading. You don’t have to listen. You ask to hear me, to hear what is wrong. Yet, when I explain, you run off and tell them. All of them. I’m tired of being last place. I’m tired of being shot down by everyone. I’m tired of being hated. I just want to go home. Here? This is not my home. I’m visiting them. My friends, my family, the ones that count. The ones that care for me more than you ever have, more than you ever will. I’m going to have to put on one of my many fake smiles and push through the hours, the countless hours, until it is all over. I don’t think that I will ever be happy again. At least not until I reach kingdom come. Everybody in my heart has made my life miserable and they don’t even realize it. I have scars to tell my story and if I have to, I will use them to prove that I’m not okay anymore and that I’m done with this cruel world.