What is so fucking wrong with me? 7 years, 7 years of milk on my head, 7 years of asking me to move seats so you can sit with your friend, of sitting as far from me as possible so I don't try and talk to you, and only talking to me when you need something. Like for me to take your picture......but I'm never in those pictures, and you never remember who took then. 7 years of talking behind my back, of treating me like I have the pelage. 7 years of hiding my shoes, of putting grits in my purse, of doing everything to make me miserable, of judging me before I even open my mouth. 7 fuckin years. I'm sick of it. I dress the way you like, I force myself to watch your stupid TV shows, I changed everything about myself to make you like me, and I hold EVERYTHING back about your stupid vapid condescending ignorant ideas of life. And I know you don't fucking care what I have to say so it doesn't matter if I hold it back or not, but I do. And I'm sorry, sorry that I'm not like you, sorry that I don't wanna get high or drunk, I'm sorry I don't wanna dress like I belong on a street corner, I'm sorry I don't wanna have sex with every guy that walks in the door. I'm sorry that I think that nerds and geeks are nice friends, and that the popular crowd is going nowhere. But 7 fucking years, and you still won’t sit next to me, won’t be nice to me. Still take my shoes, still poor things in my purse; still treat me like a leper. Why can’t you be civil, if you don't like me fine, but do you really have to be so mean? What do you get from it? Do you enjoy the tears, the break downs? Well to bad, I won’t give you the satisfaction. I won’t, I won’t...I tell myself I won’t, but then I remember 7 fucking years. So I just close my eyes, hope the lights go down and pray the play starts soon.
© Copyright 2016 sirens song. All rights reserved.