Puddles

Restless

I twisted and turned, flipping and flopping on the bed to get comfortable. I wanted to sleep, was that so much to ask for? I don't know why I couldn't sleep that night, something was keeping me awake, and I was left staring at the dark ceiling, drowning in my own thoughts. 

I sigh and shift my gaze towards another spot on the ceiling, and to try to tire myself out, I pick on one of the raging thoughts. 'Why do my friends always seem to not actually be my friends?' The topic of tonight personal angst.

Earlier that day, two of who I considered to be close with had gone out together. Now normally, I might've shrugged it off. 'They're closer to each other than they are to you,' I tell myself. However, for some reason, today it was just affecting me differently than normal. I felt anger and sadness concerning them, and it coiled around my soul like a snake constricting its prey. 

It doesn't make sense to me why people don't think of their friends when school gets out. Especially regarding me; I mean, I know I'm a rather quiet person, but not around my friends. Certainly not around them, and that makes the whole thing worse. 

It seems as though as soon as the last school bell of the school year rang, everyone forgot who I am. And that sure does sting. I go on social media platforms like Snapchat and Instagram, and I find out my so called friends threw a party and I wasn't invited, or they go to the movies together, and didn't bother asking me if I was free. 

If that's how people decide they can treat me because I'm willing to put others before me, maybe I should become a cold, callus person to everyone. Well, everyone but my best friend. I'm not the most confident, self secure person, but I know enough about myself to know that no one deserves this kind of treatment and then be hurt by it. 

So of course, I immerse myself a little too far into my thoughts on the subject and the anger festers and grows, and I reach for my phone to put my thoughts down somewhere, anywhere. So long as I get it out of my head. I click on Instagram.

And here's the thing: if I did it on Snapchat, it would be harder for people to know who exactly who I'm talking about. But on my Instagram, I only follow a handful of people, an even tinier amount are the people I had once considered my friends.

So I think if they got together, they would find out who I'm referring to. But that doesn't stop me. I still make a post, my sister laying beside me as I rant to her in the dark of the night. She's the only one awake at this time; and she's willing to listen to me. 

With this all in mind, I hit post as soon as I finish typing because, what would you know, I am sick and tired of being walked over, and if doing this makes people open their gosh darn eyes and see what they're doing to me, then I'm all for it. 

That doesn't stop the the twinge of guilt I feel over doing this. What can I say? That's who I am; I realize my self worth, and get angry that people do this to me, and then I feel guilty for doing or saying something and I'm right back where I started, stuck in the loop of a never-ending torture ride built for one. 

But this time something tells me it might just turn out different. Who knows, maybe I'll finally break this never-ending cycle.

A/N~ well what would you know, I'm back to my nonstop writing again. This one is completely motivated by my own problems (if you follow my instagram page you might've figured that out). I did add some things though, so it is technically fiction. ummm yeah. Basically, long story made short, no  one should do this to someone else. If you're friends with someone, close friends especially, don't ditch people when summer break starts. I know a lot of impressionable kids are on wattpad, so if this book ever gets the attention that terrible books miraculously get, hopefully y'all will take my advice.