Lefty's ✓

sixteen.

August.

It's hard being the same after everything. I've always been told to be "a man".

Guys don't cry

Guys don't get hurt

Guys don't feel sad

Guys don't feel

But what if they do? Why can't I sit here, wallowing in my heartbreak without the heavy weight of society judging me for it? My dad would feel the same as them. He'd slam my door open at the sounds of my wretched sobs. He'd yell at me,

"Get over it!"

What if I can't? What if right now was the worst I've ever felt? I'm just sick and tired of being hurt over and over again.

What's wrong with me?

Please, dear God, why can't anyone treat me the way I deserve to be treated; like a human. What gives people the right to treat me like trash and expect Life to act as a garbage truck and pick me up to never be seen again.

If only it worked like that.

But it doesn't. Why would it? Why would Life help people when they're hurting; it's implausible. Too many people hurt too much and there's nothing anyone can do about it. All we can do is sit and wallow and hope everything turns out alright.

Some of us have to sit and hope they'll find someone who will love them endlessly regardless of what life may throw at them. I guess that takes time. I guess I have to wait and fight through this pain to be able to find that one person. I guess it's time I face the music, turning it off in the process.

It's my turn to feel good. It's my turn to be happy. Whether I need a girlfriend or not doesn't matter at this point. What matters to me now is my well-being and how so many people- one especially- have dragged it through the dirt.