It hurts to know you'll never like me.Not in the way that I want you to see me as.
it hurts to know that you will always love my best friend.
The one that's been my best friend for years.
The more beautiful one out of the bunch,
the one who won the lottery of life more or less.
Then there's me.
The one who wasn't as lucky as her.
The one that is the opposite of her.
Ugly, short, fat, unattractive.
I will always be the forgotten one.
Sure they'll care.
then, they will transition back to their regular lives and slowly,
bit by bit,
I will fade away from their memories locked up in a place,
buried deep into their minds never to be dug up again.
I will just be a memory in the back of their little minds.
Always there,
But always ignored.
Swept up to the back because of unwanted thoughts.
I am fat, I am ugly, I am imperfect and I'll never reach anyone's standards.
The high school years are apparently the highlight of our lives,
apparently it's where we make happy memories and make bonds that will never tear but there's an ugly side.
There was ALWAYS an ugly side.
High school is when you learn how to clean your cuts after you've cried all night long.
It is when your solid friendship will be thrown into rough seas,
testing your friendship.
it'll either survive or it'll sink like the unsinkable titanic.
It is where you learn that no one will be there for you,
you will have to tell them or else you'll fall deeper Into the pit that you dug yourself.
Not him. not her. you.
You took it upon yourself to not tell anyone,
you're the one who thinks that your Prince Charming will come and save you from the darkness you have been surrounded by.
Sorry to break it to you but he will never come.
That perfect image of him will never exist in real life because such a perfect person will never exist.
Humans are horrible creatures yet we find each other's actions so mesmerizing.
We make mistakes and we hone the skills we are given to.
Some people have lost the lottery of life.
Either you have no social status whatsoever or you have no family to come home to.
You still lost.
It is our choice wether to take advantage of that or dwell on it.
YOU ARE READING
The teenage years
Poetrya collection of my thoughts and feelings all mixed together into a ball of bitterness. enjoy!