I don’t have friends.
I used to think that I was weird or something because no one wanted anything to do with me when I was a kid, they would come up to say hi and everything and try to be friendly, but I was always too secluded and shy to say anything back, so they would back off, and sooner or later try again, and fail to still get me to talk.
Now people don’t even try to talk to me.
People call me the quiet girl, but I’m far from it. I love to talk to people one on one, if its just me and someone else I’m fine, but I hate parties, I won’t talk at them at all, so I don’t go too any.
People call me the self-absorbed *****, but really it’s not my fault that I just like to model. It’s not like a flaunt my good looks and wave them around in other girls faces like im all that, because I don’t. I don’t talk about my modeling stuff, I don’t talk about the fact thatÂ I’ve been told by random strangers that I’m very pretty, and I don’t talk about how I’ve been in commercials on television. I don’t talk about these things, because it would be like saying “I’m better than you” even if I never say anything close to it, people here what they want too here.
People call me a liar, but really they wouldn’t believe if I told them I’m a sophomore, even though they know I am. People think I lie about everything, the modeling, the cheerleading, the fact that I’ve published a book. As I’ve said before, IT IS NOT MY FAULT. If I see an opportunity to do something enjoyable, like modeling or cheerleading, then I’m going to take that chance, whether you believe me or not I couldn’t give a damn about. I can only give people so much proof, but i can’t ever change their minds. People are stubborn that way, and once they’ve made up their minds that someone is a certain way, even if they don’t know them, then there’s no use in trying to change that.
People call me a poser, because when you try to kill yourself, word gets around. “You apparently have everything. You’re a model, a cheerleader, a published author,Â a talented singer, and good guitar and piano player, how the hell can you be depressed?” Well, just because I’m good at certain things means I must be faking being depressed, right? WRONG. I don’t know why I’m depressed, but if they knew, if they took the time to actually want to sit and talk with me like a real human being, I bet you anything they could figure it out for themselves.
People judge me all the time, and I can’t change that. But to be honest, I don’t want friends. Friends can let you down, they can pretend to care about you, and then throw that in your face because you believed in them, you let your guard down. And people will do that because they can, because they can mess around with your mind all they want too, and it will be all your fault for letting them in.
The truth of the matter is, I don’t want friends, because I’m perfectly content with being alone.