Don't Judge A Person By Their Cover

I was bombarded with texts by the time I woke up from my hour long nap. Everyone one of my friends asking what to do about their boyfriend cheating on them, what to do now that they’ve been stabbed in the back, and about how their dad is on a drinking binge again. The rain outside pounded harder in time with the roaring thunder, causing the house to shake. I was more than thankful that I was the only one home.

The only time my friends really bothered to get a hold of me was when they needed something—advice, a ride somewhere, or some other sort of favor. I was only invited to hang out to be a designate driver, and when I needed someone to be there for me, conveniently enough, they were all “extremely busy.” Thunder shook the house once again as I screamed and threw my pillow across the room, nearly knocking over my floor lamp.

I was fed up. I was done. I was sick of feeling so lonely when I had so many “friends.” I spent all my time trying to make sure that they were happy when they didn’t give a damn about how I felt. I spent most nights crying while they were all out having a grand old time. The only time I was ever involved was when someone got drunk and needed a ride or some kind of drama was starting and I was forced to come and interfere. When I was crying over a breakup, the only advice I got was “Oh, you’ll get over it. There are plenty of fish in the sea.”

I never thought the people who were supposed to make me feel the most loved would make me feel so alone.