Messed UpMature

There are two kinds of people - ones who are constantly getting hurt, and ones who do the hurting. The one thing scarier than getting hurt is the thought of hurting someone else.

I've seen it. Two people I care about ripping each other to shred before my eyes. Both of them crying. I was too. And it seemed I was more important, but I wasn't. It wasn't about me, so why did they pretend it was?

And it's like a chain reaction. Like a door has been opened, sign-posted "This way to cut down your friend." Messed. Up.

And love? Don't get me started. Security? No such thing. We're all just a moment away from disappointment. I thought maybe for once I was special, and I couldn't be replaced, but I was. Almost immediately. Just as I thought. Second best, again.

And I know my problems are nothing compared to some. But I don't see how I can drag my mind out of this pit of dark thoughts.

Will I ever matter? Will the world ever be a brighter place? Will people ever stop hurting each other? Will anything ever be the same after this b**** of a year?

The answer is no.

The End

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