The Perfect Buddy.

Lonely.

Another day, another five hours laying in bed trying to find a reason to get up.

Luckily after only a few this time, I swiveled around, my droopy, tired eyes trying to adjust to the minimal light peeking through the blinds. I didn't actually have a reason yet, I just got uncomfy in the position I was in and wanted to stretch. I was already up though, so I decided that's when my day would start. At a ripe 4 pm.
My eyes lazily glossed over my room as I got to my feet, trudging through the clothes and trash strewn across the floor instead of expertly dodging it like I used to. It was like a game, though no consequence or reward was given, except maybe a pang of confidence or a trodden-on sandwich- but I didn't play it anymore. Too much effort, why put effort into something if you don't get anything out of it? I pulled my gown down from the door as I stepped through and slid my arms in, letting out a little huff once I reached the kitchen. I don't know why I even bothered trying to find something in the cupboards, every day was the same. If I didn't go to the store, nothing would appear there. But I always checked anyway. A couple cobwebs, a horrible mushy pile of something that looked borderline alive, and a single can- open, of course. 

"Mom!! I made a robot that opens up cans so we don't have to!"
"Get it off the table and do something productive."

My eyes drifted over to the small hunk of metal on my couch. 

"B-but it saves us having to-"
I could feel my heart shatter when my creation was forcefully pushed onto the floor, smashing into bits I couldn't possibly repair.

She never believed in me. Hell, no one did. Barely anyone even batted an eye, let alone even talked to me at all. Despite some of my robots malfunctioning and bursting into flames, I did make some genuinely useful stuff. Not to anyone else, but it felt like I was doing something purposeful. I stepped over to my couch and picked up the small robot. A little spider-like creature with a butter knife fused into each of its front two arms. Perfect for spreading butter, terrible weaponry. I didn't use it. Of course I didn't use it, does it look like I can eat butter? I would die if I ate butter. It was one of my first successful robots. It looked awful by my current standards, I couldn't even remember if the "spider" look was intentional or my craftsmanship was craftsmanshit. But I made it to try and impress my mom. It didn't work, and every attempt after was even more pathetic than the last.

I honestly couldn't remember why I didn't stop trying.

I chucked the little poorly-welded robot off to the side, sitting on my couch and laying back. My second bed, but now with a T.V that never had anything good playing. I writhed uncomfortably when I felt my stomach growl at me. My eyes were locked onto the screen, yet I wasn't paying attention. My mind was wandering far beyond what my vision was seeing. Growing up I really don't know what I did wrong. No one was ever there for me, surely everyone has someone, right? Everyone but me of course. It had to be me. I was aware I got overly angry at the stupidest little things, but that couldn't have been the sole reason I had no one. Or maybe it was, who knows. From a short, babbling toddler to a short, sorry excuse for an adult...

I'd been lonely.