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when people asked
“what do you want to
be when you grow up?”
i never knew.
i’ve grown up a little, 17,
and all i am is
could be
seasonal depression
or could be
lacking any friends
i don’t know.

and please don’t try to tell me “oh you have friends- you really do” or “find new friends” because trust me- I know them- and I don’t want to associate with them and I live in too small of a town to find other friends.
i have been
conditioned to
think that working
is more important than
my health.
to the ones who fell in love early and loved much. who kept falling in love over and over and over again.
to the ones who searched for love in all the right and wrong and could never seem to find it. not at home, not at work, not at school, nowhere.
to the ones who found love everywhere or even just once, and wanted nothing to do with it.
to the ones who've been hurt from the beginning and who've yet to be hurt.
to the hearts of glass and stone, the ones who broke and shattered over and over again, to the ones who've only been broken a few times.
to the ones who've been so broken- and yet continue to love. to the ones who love when it's hard to.
to those who cry alone at night and the ones who cry in the arms of friends.
to those who've been left gently and on good terms and for the ones who were harshly abandoned without a second thought- this is for you.
this is to tell you- you are heard and seen and loved.
i'm still half a page short.
this essay is pointless
there is no fluff left to write

the cursor sits there- it
mocks me.
this isn't helping either
i feel like i
can’t say what
happened to me
because what happened
to my best friend was
so much worse...
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