dear fake friends,

i asked you to stop.
i asked you to stop talking about me.
i asked you to stop telling me to kill myself.
i asked you to stop hurting me.
i asked you to stop it all.

that's what leaves us here.
a awkward friendship.

we've been friends since second grade.
we all should be in sixth grade, but we was all held back.
sometimes i wish, i didn't get the extra year.
i could've been gone.
i could've never met you all.
my life wouldn't have been such a mess.
but no, i meet you all.

it was all good at first.
the sleepovers, the parties, the 'sharing each other's things cause were basically sisters'.
then it happened.

you all turned into horrible people.
you all came for me.
you told me to kill myself.
would slap, punch, kick, trip me.

it had come to the point where, i hit you back.
i fought back.
i thought it was good for me, to hit you back.
punch you back.
kick you back.
trip you back.
but it all turned to hell.

once again, i was to stop talking to you all.
it worked for awhile.
until the counselor called us in.
telling us 'we're all growing older' 'it's normal to change'.
yeah, i know.
but i don't think it's normal to change that much.

i am forced to be friends with you.
by the school.
i hate it.
i don't want toxic people in my life.
my mom told me stop hanging with you all.
and if i didn't, she would ground me.
i've tried to be perfect for all of you.
i tried.

and i miss you guys.
the old you.
the small arguments over 'who's cuter, justin beiber or harry styles?'.
i miss sharing my milk carton with you all.
i miss giving you all clothes when you forget yours at my house.
i miss bugging my mom about getting us ice cream at 'licks'.
i miss it all.

i fake a smile everyday.
i try to laugh off your slaps on my skin.
but really i want to scream and cry.
i get back up, every time you trip me in the hallways.
but really i want to sit there, and give my what feels 'my broken ankle' a rest.

you all have ruined my life.
and i pray it gets better for me.