I hate you, but I love you

-Chapter 2-

End of the day and I still don't have this stupid essay done. It's so hard and I don't understand how people can get a topic so quickly.

I already know that my "friend" has made her essay about. She wrote it about her stupid friends and how she is sooo happy for them. It so dumb because all of her friends always complain about her to me. Not saying no one likes her because well I like her but everyone else hates her.

Her annoying yet beautiful voice just got on my nerves. She would walk into a room and immediately I would stop laughing and instead leave. In the moment where I was stuck, where I couldn't leave. I simply took my anger out on others. While some people understood why, most would be confused and get upset.

I felt almost forced by my mother to pretend to like her, she was the daughter my mom never had. And after all the gifts she gave me, I would be an asshole to just leave her.

But none of that stopped the hatred. I still hated this girl. The one I thought was my friend but instead was just a player and I was the pawn. Still left in the game even after the opponent stops playing. Years later and I still stand, the board game you and your drunk friends forgot to put away. All of these ideas I could add to my possible essay but my hands didn't move. The anger and frustration of being ready to leave hurt my brain to the point where all I could do was sit there frozen and cry.

Laying what now was a pile of dirty clothes and random objects, that I could call the floor of my room. I open my computer. I did this a lot. I would get frustrated and just walk home to type. I'm not supposed to walk home because it's "too dangerous" but I do anyway. I could care less if I was walking home deep in thought and got mugged or hit by a car. I don't really fear physical pain or death because part of me wants it to come quicker. I'm not suicidal rather I could just care less.

The computer screen is the only thing lighting my dark room. I stick my foot under my bed, taunting the 'monsters' I used to fear. Hoping that they would come back, my childhood returning. The only thing that scared me or kept me awake was the 'monsters' I once feared. Now I fear real horrors but at the same time I don't fear because I don't feel. It's not some dumb bravery thing rather a numbness to things.

I look back at the computer screen. "I really need to title this if I'm gonna turn it in." I say audibly enough that if my parents were home they would hear it. The title that comes to mind is I'm positive that I hate my life. A bit sad but it's true. I skipped all meals of the day and hardly slept that night for god knows why, but that's my everyday schedule

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