I've never felt like I belong.
Whenever a sense of hope comes along that makes me feel accepted or befriended, it burns up, leaving behind the ashes for me to clean up. It leaves me wondering, "where did I go wrong?"
I'll sit on the couch at parties, hoping for that one person to notice the underdog and maybe try to make conversation. I expect people to bandage up my feelings, but these people I interact with, they aren't my nurses.
When people ask who my best friend is, I wonder if it'd be an acceptable answer if I said myself.
But I find myself at midnight, staring at the ceiling, mind full of regret, wondering, "what did I do to make these people shut me out?"
"Where did I go wrong?"
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 10:31 PM UTC
I've never felt like I belong.
Whenever a sense of hope comes along that makes me feel accepted or befriended, it burns up, leaving behind the ashes for me to clean up. It leaves me wondering, "where did I go wrong?"
I'll sit on the couch at parties, hoping for that one person to notice the underdog and maybe try to make conversation. I expect people to bandage up my feelings, but these people I interact with, they aren't my nurses.
When people ask who my best friend is, I wonder if it'd be an acceptable answer if I said myself.
But I find myself at midnight, staring at the ceiling, mind full of regret, wondering, "what did I do to make these people shut me out?"
"Where did I go wrong?"
