I Hate You

What did you think when you said all those things?
That I was psychic? That I just wouldn't care when I found out that you had left me out of things?
What now? Are they more important than me? I thought I was your friend!
But I suppose that is all worth nothing in the end.
You've proved that to me.


Is this what pain feels like?
Seems so.
It's taking over me. Consuming me from the inside.

Just when I thought I had ridden myself of it.
And look, you've spread it.




Why did you do this to me? To us?
That entire conversation was filled with pain. I couldn't cry, not there. They all care much too much to let me cry without explanation.
Will I never be able to see the good in others? I always assume the worst, that they don't care or hate me.
Yet I've been proven time and time again.
Nothing has gotten me to see the good side of things. Nothing.


I wonder if they can see?
See the pain in my eyes, the tears held back.
If they can tell that I am hiding things, not telling them everything.
But I don't trust them. I don't trust any of them.


I don't need this.
I don't.
It hurts.