Leave Me Behind, Why Don't You?

Leave Me Behind, Why Don’t You?

Friends aren’t everything, are they?

Everyone tells different, but that’s not what I say.

Because if they were important, I would have them; wouldn’t I?

Food, water, and oxygen are important, and I have those things?

Another important thing to me is singing, it’s a part of me, along with music and artistic creating…

I have those too.

So, if friends were really that important, I would have them. And since I don’t have them, without them will do. For me at least.

I’m sorry, that it’s taken me so long to get myself back together, piece by piece…

I used to have friends, friends that said they would be there for me until the end.

But those are lies, lies, lies that they tell you.

I’m not bitter and I’m not mad – at least for now – yet I think the last memory with “friends”, I was glad.

My first friend was judged by my second friend, while the third turned and tried to kiss me, I guess she had repressed feelings of being a lesbian.

I have no problem with people’s sexuality, but I decked her anyway because that’s me, and that’s how I work with reality.

My fourth friend was a boy – so he was easier to deal with – and without him, I would cease to exist…

But of course, I had to move, and leave my “friends” behind. They’ll tell you that they are there for you forever, but I guess I was naïve and didn’t understand the meaning of “forever and ever”

I’ll skip a part, for those memories are to raw and deep, too close to my heart…

I guess if I’m not normal, then why should my first love be? It was again, naïve of me,

That I believed that he loved me, and the lies he created for me were hard to see.

And my second love left me just the same, I’m not sure his love was in mine to claim, not anyway at least.

Third time around, I should be lucky, but I guess not,

Not when that third love lies to your face, takes out your heart, and stomps on it.

Except,

You’re stupid enough to come back anyway, and they’re evil enough to destroy another heart, and another, and yet, they’re still from the same person: me.

So as I sit here, with no tissues by my side, calm at the minute but angered by everything else,

Do you ask me to be regretful for what I did?

For lying, cheating, stealing, being evil, creating trouble for others…

Not a chance. Call me a lying bastard, I don’t care.

Because maybe my actions brought this upon me, and maybe they did.

Maybe that’s why I find myself here, being left behind by my friends, actually, my “friends”.

Because everyone grows up, eventually that is, except for me.

Lie to me, say that you’ll love me forever, and say that you’ll be there for me when I need you.

BUT YOU WON’T. I can promise you that,

I can promise that you’ll leave me high and dry, and I’ll realize how naïve I am and blame myself for not being paranoid.

I’m sorry that I can’t grow up, I’m sorry that my childish actions are a part of me forever,

I’m sorry that I hate myself in every way possible, and hate the fact that I’m crying out for attention through a poem.

I’m sorry that this poem is now less professional, and now I’m just letting all my damn emotions spill out.

And you know what; I just learned that I’m showing all the possible signs of depression that are freaking possible:

Talking about death, listening to music about death, writing poems about fucking death, death death death.

I’m talking about instruments of death: guns, poisons, anything that could end a person’s life.

I’m fucking suicidal and no one gives a shit! No one’s there for me, even though they say there are…

No, they’re too caught up with their own freaking life.

They’re “busy”, they have their own “problems”, and they just don’t “have the time”.

Well fine then, fuck you. I don’t need you, I never did.

I’m suicidal, I’m giving important things to me away to people, I’m saying good-bye to everyone, I’m cutting, I’m doing everything possible,

And I know that I’ve asked for attention all my life, but please, now I’m begging for it, give it to ME.

Please, just for this once, can someone be there for me? Can someone not just assume or try to relate with what I’m going through?

Can someone just please, please, please, listen and not judge?

Can someone please just be my friend?

…

I know that no one will be there for me, I already know. I already fucking know.

I guess this is my farewell, not that anyone’s listening.

Because why would anyone care about some teenage girl that is not accepted, that is a loner, that despises the idea of love, that girl who has OCD, depression, conduct disorder, and seems like she has multiple personality disorder?

I already know the answer; and I know that no one really does care. They just say they do, they just say they’re your “friend”.

So just leave me behind, why don’t you?