I never mattered to you.
I sit here, quietly noticing all of the things that you do.
All of the other girls that you like more than me.
I'm not very good at anything, and I'm not very nice.
I'm not very pretty, and I don't have any special talents.
But I swear I loved you more than any of the others.
I loved you more than I even thought possible.
You make my body ache from how much you dislike me.
You'd always choose someone else.
I will never be good enough for you.
Not pretty enough, not smart enough, not talented enough, not interesting enough.
Why would you ever pick me anyway?
When you have these other girls,
That are interested in the same things as you.
That are prettier than me.
That aren't mean, or cruel, or hateful.
That don't have as many mental problems as I do.
That can make you much happier than you think I ever could.
You're wrong. You're so wrong and I will never have the ability to tell you the things I want to.
I won't be able to show you how much it hurts to be picked over.
To be disliked and hated by those most important to you.
I'm just crazy, and mean, and replaceable.
And sorry. I'm so very sorry. That I can't ever be good enough.
