To some; it may just seem like an invite that was never sent out, just another picture we never took. A band aid that fell off and left a scar. The text you ignored. Some friendship bracelet you never made. Or the conversation you should have had, yet never bothered to ask.
But for someone who feels things more intensely then most, all of these little things build up; they chip away at your mind, take a toll on your body and bruise the soul.
Don’t say what you don’t mean.
Don’t pretend to care if you really don’t.
Don’t stay around to be polite.
Don’t act like you’ll try and never do.
Don’t say you will and never go through with it.
Don’t forget what that person has done for you.
Don’t make everything into a competition.
Don’t call yourself a friend if you’re never there.
Don’t use people.
Don’t treat anyone with disrespect.
Don’t knock someone down to feel better about yourself.
Don’t act as though your life is worse when the person is already upset.
Just listen, that’s all I’ve asked for. A “bitch-friend”. Someone who will listen to me rant and either give me advice or come help kick the ass of whoever hurt me. Someone who doesn’t compare stories and has to constantly make everything about themselves. A person who will be straight up with me – who won’t ask what’s wrong if they’re not willing to try to be there. Frankly, just a person who’s not going to call themselves a friend, but will actually be one.
Why is it so difficult?
Why I am so easily left in the dark? So easily knocked down and forgotten.
Why can you walk over me without hesitation?
I’m extremely sensitive, and even the smallest thing can make me feel weak, I know. But it isn’t all me. I’m not overreacting constantly. I’m not completely in the wrong.
Just like to any rule, there are obvious exceptions. But even the exceptions aren’t perfect. No one is perfect, that’s understandable. But I can’t help but wonder, even if you are the exception to the rule, and you’re supposed to be the few “good friends”, why do you leave me out like the rest of them? Why do you always have to make things about you? Why am I picking up the pieces of your life and you barely listen to mine? Why do I have to make the first move and get rejected?
Why are you so different, when you act the same.
It’s the small things that add up to me. The phone calls you never made. The hugs you never gave. The jokes that never made it past our lips. The junk food that never touched our hips. The nights we never spent up until morning. And the movies we never watched while crying over men.
Nothing. None of that. Something as stupid as tagging a picture on Facebook (Drama-Book) with all of your friends, and excluding me.
“We’ll invite you next time!”