Musings of a dumb bitch

Did you notice?

Three.
Three times you stood on my feet.
Three times you didn't look back.
Three times you didn't acknowledge you just stepped on a person.
On your "friend".
Christ what a joke I am.
Sitting on the floor because I came to our room late so I had a minute to breathe. Locked in a toilet stall doing nothing whilst I let chairs be sat upon.
It's fine. The chairs are for people who need them. People who have things to say. People who people want to speak.
What do I bring to the table?
Really?
Nothing that anyone wants, that's for certain. I can't do it like them. Everyone else got the script and director's notes.
I didn't.
All I bring is food. Food that I make to substitute words. You all used to take it. Maybe it was out of politeness.
You don't need to bother anymore.
I'm not worth it.
Four.
Four times now.

So what do I do. Try and write my name in alphabets that don't exist.
Jesus, what's the point?
I shouldn't be here.
People have places, I should have learned mine. Instead of jamming into rooms that I don't belong in.
Six.
Six times now.
I just keep clenching my jaw as if that takes me out of the equation.
Clenching and grinding until I dissapear.
There's no need.
I'm not here anyway
Not really.

I'm empty space with a persistent volume that refuses to die.

It doesn't matter. Writing this is wrong. All wrong.
Maybe that's the worse part. Knowing.
Everything I write is wrong.
Writing about people who haven't done anything vaguely harmful in any way.

They don't deserve it. It's my fault. I do it to myself.
It's me. Nobody else.
And it doesn't even matter
It never even did.