They’re all having fun without you.

They’re glad you’re not there.

They don’t even notice your presence,

When you can be bothered to attend.

They’re probably talking about you behind your back.

They don’t really like you.

You’re just the weirdo in the back of the herd,

Who never is able to show up.

They’re faking being amiable.

And you have no clue,

Because you aren’t even with them,

Often enough to tell.

She squeezed her eyes shut, clenching her arms around her pillow. This was all a lie. Her friends liked her. Her brain was just making stupid fantasies. She was overreacting. God, she didn’t know what she would do if she weren’t overthinking this, if her idiotic spiraling anxieties were even near true.

They hate you.

As they should.

You’re missing out.

On the party.

On having friends.

On life.

Why do you do this?

A single tear rolled down to the corner of her lips, cool and refreshing and real on the numb canvas of her face.

She didn’t know why.

She didn’t know.

☆.𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊.☆

Hey y’all. Sorry I’ve been inactive in both writing and liking/commenting lately, I’ve kinda been stuck in an unmotivated rut for pretty much everything, but I feel really bad.

Thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate your support. Hopefully I’ll get back into things soon!

Love you all!! 🍄🩷🫶🎶✨

☆.𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊.☆