No one understands the heavy weight of the heart as the bell rings and you are the last standing in the dark corner, waiting for someone to notice—someone to care.

No one understands the sting of your eyes as the joy and laughter floods through the air—the type of joy and laughter you aren’t apart of.

No one understands the urge to leave as someone offers you a part in there fun—but only out of pure sympathy for the lonely girl in the back.

No one understands the feeling of loneliness, of insecurity, of embarrassment, as silence fills the room, eyes glancing around waiting for someone to offer first—but not wanting to offer themselves.

No one gets the same chill, the same jolt of pain in there chest, as their two best friends choose each other leaving you to find a stranger to join up with.

No one understands, if they have not been ‘that one girl’. The least talentend of the sports team. The backup friend that is only needed on rare occasions. The girl that walks the halls with her hood up, shielding the loneliness of no one wanting her.

No one understands, unless they have felt the hurt of being chosen last, over and over again.