A suspiciously odd amount of Short Stories.

//Missing Them//

I... miss them.

The friends I used to have. The ones I left, and the ones I lost.

The girls who hurt me. The girls who didn't want to hurt me.

I miss them.

I miss the days without depression. Going outside and playing with friends. Sleepovers, playing video games, watching tv, getting into trouble. Living life. I my group of friends would hop on skateboards and ride. We would stay up all night and talk about girls and stupid nonsense. We would go to mcdonalds after school and walk home instead of taking the bus.

I miss them.

I miss the way they looked at me. I miss the way our hands would touch. I miss the way I could sit next to them and be happy, because they were my friends. I hate the way my brain works. I hate how I saw the things we had in common, their amazing personalities, and how pretty they were. I hate how I developed feelings for them but am too ugly, too broken, too insane for them to love me back. I lost them that way, because you can't easily be friends with someone you love. It hurts seeing their pictures, seeing their messages, seeing them. Thinking of them. It sucks. I miss them. I wish I could take it back, but that would make it worse. Why would I take back my love for you?

I miss them.
I miss myself. The abstract idea of me. I miss the many personalities I've developed. The chaotic one, the carefree one, to oblivious one, the slave. They didn't care. But they're gone. I miss them. I really, really do.