My friends hate me.

My mind echoes,

With their twisted words.

At first, I barely noticed,

“Oh, I didn’t think you’d want to come.”

“I thought you were busy.”

“What are you talking about?” “Oh, it’s nothing.”

“You wouldn’t get it.”

Always doubting,

Never secure.

Their speech escalated,

Picking apart my every action,

“Why are you talking so loud?”

“Why do you do that?”

“Are you really excited about that?”

“I could never wear that.”

Soon, my mind fills in the blanks,

“You’re so annoying.”

“You’re stupid.”

“Nobody likes you.”

“You should just stop talking.”

The true friends I do have

Have true friends of their own.

Never meaning as much to people as they mean to me.

I tell myself,

“Don’t be weird.”

“Don’t get too attached.”
“Don’t take it personal.”

Changing myself

To fit into a perfect mold.

Don’t show your personality,

They won’t like you that way.

I make myself into a chameleon,

Constantly shifting to please whoever I’m talking to.

Sometimes, it gets to be too much.

I hide in the stall of a school bathroom, tears in my eyes,

Trying to breathe and not mess up my mascara.

And nobody cares enough to ask me if I’m okay.

But I stay.

I stay because the reality of loneliness is greater than the pain I’m feeling now.

I stay because I wouldn’t be caught dead eating lunch alone.

I stay even though my friends hate me.