The truth about the world

Chapter One

Just want to say that idk where this is going but please comment because I don't know what to write but I feel like this could go somewhere

My plain, white walls stared back at me as tears streamed down my face. The walls were a visual image of me, quite frankly, bleak and empty. I was 23 and sat with my legs tucked into my chest, my chin resting on my knees, my back against the one of the walls to my bedroom.

The thing is, I had no reason to be crying, I just was. I was crying because of built up emotions, because the boy who said that he liked me got with another girl, because my best friend has given up on me, because I wasn't good enough for anyone. No one at all, not even my parents. The worst things in life really do come free to us.

They'd expected this perfect child all along, a wonderful little girl who should have got 11 straight a*s in her GCSEs and 3 a*s at A -Level. That's what they wanted anyway, they never got it.

I often contemplated what the world would be like without me. No different really, I guess, I know.

Let's face it. We're all condemned to death anyway, so what would it matter if I left now, just a little before my time? It wouldn't, would it?

* * *

You see, no one actually cares until you've gone, do they? People will try and feel sympathy for you but they will never be able to empathise. They try to be your friend; that's what it's about in the end, pulling together as many friends as possible, making your circle as big as possible, making yourself known and flaunting it. Apparently so, anyway.

People will take you for granted. They don't give two shits until you aren't there and they realise what a terrible person they've been to you and oh how sad life is now that you've gone. Still then, it's fake emotion.