The Problem

She's just a person, like I am. Ask anyone. She has feelings, like I do. She can be emotional, so can I. She's different. I'm different. She's hopelessly confused, and I'm lost. What does it mean to be anything anymore? She's alone. I'm alone. No one wanted to be around her, and I was one of them. She's hurt. I am too. Life for her isn't as great as people said it would be, and I'm part of the problem. She doesn't trust anyone, because of me. I took her friendship for granted. I have hurt her. I walked away from her. She's doesn't confide in anyone, and I'm part of the problem. I pray she's not suicidal. She thinks she's a weirdo. I constantly hurt her, And now she hates me. I did things to her that no one deserves, All for a laugh, and to make sure I didn't end up like her. And for what? To be like them? Oh yeah, that's a good reason. I stabbed her in the back. She was falling apart, And all I did was take a hammer and shatter her to pieces. She was bleeding, And all I did was puncture her open wounds. She was crying for help, And all I did was plug my ears. Why should she want to be around me? I don't deserve her as my friend. Why? Because I'm a nobody. I'm just a teenage girl, who, unfortunately, fits right into this cold, twisted world. I guess we're not the same. I belong and she doesn't. but guess who's the lucky one.