flowers on a headstone

it’s not her fault she didn’t want to impose on me but like i’m sixteen all you need me to do is harass him a bit. i literally couldn’t sleep the night before because i was nervous about the other messes in the house but i trusted my mom to follow through because i was exhausted and not told otherwise but she just didn’t do it. didn’t even address it to say “i can’t do anymore, this is how it’ll be” the day before or anything. just nothing

not upset with my brother too much because when i was fourteen the same thing happened regarding my depression room. but also i guess it’s different because he was beating me among other things so maybe it’s different. whatever

because of people who gave me no credence, i feel like i can’t move forward or talk about being kind or admitting fault. i want to be perfect. i want to do everything right. everything i did was carefully planned to avoid mistakes and inconveniences upon others, but it failed and i don’t know what i was supposed to do.

i was fifteen and terrified and trapped and that wasn’t an excuse for being angry with everyone else about my groomer telling lies about me and manipulating both me and our friends and it wasn’t an excuse for blowing up and being disrespectful and impulsively, harmfully argumentative; but what should i have done

normally i would chock it up to “well, what should they have done?” but they sensationalized the prospect of a fun exciting drama instead of telling them to slow down and wait until i could explain myself or at the very least not lie about me for a more compelling narrative.

i said i needed to step away from our group due to emotional turmoil and conflict resolution. they said i stated that i was going to be ignoring everyone. they acted innocent, “we were just comforting our friend”, when they were twisting stories and refusing to ask for context, clarification, or any context from the OTHER friend

if my anger over this seems unreasonable to them, fuck you. if me speaking about the night i tried to kill myself is “beating a dead horse”, fuck you. you were the ones who left me for dead without a word or a glance. you would’ve let me die had the friend not participating in story swapping break down to you guys while trying to reach my mom

you let me die. you would’ve let me die. you would’ve let my body go cold and my heart stop beating because i wasn’t worth it. had my prescription been full, had i planned it ahead of time, i would have died or been in critical condition.

you were inconvenienced by me living because now you had to deal with another annoyance. i loved you all so much i would cry happy tears at the warmth you guys made me feel, but it was nothing more than superficial mob mentality that cares for nothing but gossip, lies and cruel jokes. fuck off, and double fuck off about how one of you was actually “just about to apologize:(“ when i blocked them like some hysterical dramatic bitch. that apology was owed months before.

i refuse to stalk their profiles, beyond brief opening of playlists to see if a thread still survived. i refuse to act like someone apart of their current life. but still, the few active platforms they still unknowingly follow me on will stay. i will hold out false hope that they miss me too, that they want to recognize me and my hurt, that they too hope for reconnection through subtle gestures. it’s delusional, of course, but it’s easier than accepting they no longer care for me. i cannot let go of this hope for a friend to laugh with me again, it will break me.