sorry

Do what I did. Decide to be fine until the end of the week. Smile because you’re alive and that’s your job. Then the next week, do it right, with a smile or don’t do it.

Love her like I loved you.

The stars would be so proud to know their atoms created somebody like you.

It hurts looking back now and realising that I was the villain of our story

And you know what the worst part is? I was so convinced he loved me back. If you had seen the way he looked at me… I felt like he had adored me. We talked, and we talked and we talked and we talked about anything and everything. And, they way he talked to me, wasn’t how he talked in front of other people. His voice usually sounded calm and gentle, with an air of insecurity. But, when we talked to me, he was so loud. It was loud and hard and breathless and confident and he seemed so fucking sure about me. I had finally started to feel important. But, no. I was just too fucking stupid to understand that he had talked to her the exact same way. His brown eyes lit up the exact same way. They talked about more than him and I had. He did love her back. He did adore her. And, you would think, if he loved her, and he talked to you and looked at you the same goddamned way he looked at her, doesn’t that mean he loved you as well? Well, that’s the exact fucking thing. He chose her. I had all the fucking love in the world for this boy, and he very well may have loved me, too, but he didn’t fucking choose me. I was standing right there and he chose her. And I still love him. I would still choose him over anyone in the world. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Life is not fair. Love is not fair. Nothing in this entire fucked up world is fair. Unless you’re her.

All my life I’ve had people tell me; “You’re 16. What do you know? You don’t pay taxes. You don’t pay bills or a mortgage. You don’t worry about having a job. You don’t have mouths to feed.” You’re right. I’m only 16. But at the age of 13 I was already contemplating suicide. At the age of 13 I was relentlessly told how ugly, fat, and untalented I was. How I would never amount to anything. At 15 I held a bottle of pills in my hands several times a week. At 15 my parents fought so loudly the whole house would shake. At 15 I started telling myself how fat and worthless I was. At 15 I stopped eating for two months. By the age of 16 my thighs were covered in battle scars. At 16 I learned what it was like to pray every night that I wouldn’t wake up to see the sun. At 16 I swallowed a bottle of pills and had my stomach pumped in the middle 3rd period. At 16 I woke up in a hospital and crying and screaming because I wasn’t dead. At 16 I was told my depression and anxiety were just cries for attention. At 16 I learned what it was like to feel the rejection from the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally. I learned what it was like to feel the love my parents used to have for me drain out of their eyes. So I maybe 16 but I feel like I am a thousand years old. I have fought battles you cannot even begin to imagine. I have endured years of relentless torment and taunts, and when I asked for help I was told I deserved it. I may be 16 but I have endured more than you ever have in your 36 years of life. So I may not have to pay taxes. But at 16 I have anxiety attacks over the piles of homework I have to turn in the next day. I may not have to worry about feeding my kids. but even after 2 years of rehabilitation I still get depressed if I eat too much. So you tell me; “You’re 16. What do you know?” And my answer will always be; “Far too much”