You stopped writing things about me, and yet, I still can't stop thinking about it. I can't stop thinking about how much of an impact it had on my life. Of how it showed me who truly cares, and who is just acting. It showed me that you don't care either, and you never have. I can't stop thinking about all of the things you've called me over the years.
I’m Left
People keep telling me to deal with it, to grow up, to get some skin. I don't know how they expect me to do it. I'm left with the knowledge that a person I once believed to be my best friend has been bullying me for three years, in many different ways. I'm left with the knowledge that she hates me, that she believes I'm spoiled and rich, that she believes I'm not a good friend. I'm left with the knowledge that this girl has said the worst possible things to me and called me the worst possible things, for years. And yet, I'm supposed to grow up? I'm supposed to deal with it? I'm supposed to grow some skin? I'm left with the knowledge that my own parents believe I should move past this, that I should let it go. I'm left with the knowledge that the people I thought were my friends expect me to forgive her and be her friend? I'm left with the knowledge that none of them care about me. I'm left with the knowledge that I'm left alone. I'm left with the knowledge I have a bunch of fake friends who are more willing to let their friend be bullied than talk about it and risk breaking the "friend group" apart. I'm left with the knowledge that I care about these people, but not a single one care about the tears that run down my cheeks that are caused by the insecurities from my own friends. I'm left with the knowledge that I'm left by myself. I'm left.
The colour of a sky in the daytime, bright white puffy clouds dotted through it like stars.
The colour of the ocean, followed by powerful waves that flow onto the shore with white foam.
The colour that rolls around your legs while standing in that ocean, the coolness making you jump.
The colour that you see as you open your eyes under water, in awe of how pretty the colour scheme is.
The colour associated with sadness, of heartbreak, loss, tears.
The colour also of happiness, one of the few colours of the rainbow, bringing colour into the sky after the rain.
The colour of walls, of floors, of lights, of many things.
A very important colour, indeed.
The feeling of being alone is almost as if you were the only to be living in the world, even if you can see them around you. It's feeling as if you're left by yourself to deal with your thoughts, no one to speak to, no one to comfort you. It's like a nightmare, monsters chasing you, only being left to solve it yourself, no one helping you. It's like being in a forest speaking, speaking into the empty darkness. There's no comfort, only your own thoughts attempting to help. There are no others to care about you, to make sure you're alright, to make sure that you're alive. You're as if you're left on an island, separated from all of humanity. You are left without contact, without hope. You're alone.
Why?
You write about me,
Saying the worst things,
Thing I never would have imagine,
Basically bullying me,
Blaming me for it all.
What have I done to you?
Am I that spoiled?
Am I that mean?
Am I that rich?
Am I that bad?
Do you understand me?
Do you understand my life?
Do you have two alcoholic parents?
Parents who have hurt you both physically and emotionally?
Parents who are drunk on a regular basis?
Do you not basically have a mother in your life?
Is your mother so depressed she spends days in a row in bed?
Does your mother have so much anxiety she can barely go to the store for groceries each week?
Does your father work endless hours?
Is your father spending from all morning until late at night working?
Is your father spending even more overtime doing more work?
Is your father basically gone all day until late at night?
Are you left spending your time alone?
Do you even understand my life?
No.
Then why are you doing this?