I know that my friends have other friends.
I know that I might be too busy sometimes or that I don’t always have a ride.
I know that I can be annoying, selfish, violent, moody, but I just want you to understand.
Understand that whenever I make a mistake, I think about what you would have done. That when people meet me, I think about how much better things would go if I were you. That even though I may seem fine, I just want to die.
I know that I’m awkward and don’t have as many friends as you. But it doesn’t help when you brag about what someone else, that I don’t talk to, said. It doesn’t help when you joke about this one time you had a party with tons of other people. It doesn’t help when you tell me about inside jokes and that you have big plans with other people.
I don’t want to know when someone confessed their crush with you. I don’t wanna know when you brother’s friends give you their number and invite you to hang out. I don’t want to know about that time you went to Utah and met a guy who lived in San Jose, who then gave you his number. I don’t want to know about the things you say to strangers that makes everyone fall in love with you. I don’t wanna know when other people tell you what they don’t like about me.
I don’t want to listen to when you tell other people that I’m rude, violent, moody, stupid. I don’t want to hear when other people always compliment and give you gifts. I don’t want to hear about the time that you got free things because of your mom’s connections.
Maybe I just show my affection through light hip taps, or belly rubs. Maybe I just show that I care by not caring at all. Maybe I just want to fit in.
I hate you. But I love you. You’re what I want to be, but can never become. You have everything that I could possibly desire.
When I tried telling you about my depression and that I wanted to leave, you told me that you had cut yourself with a knife and had to go to a therapist for a year. When I tried telling you about my parents, you told me that your parents are divorcing. When I told you that I was thinking about going to the east coast to escape my parents, you told me that you felt the same even though I’ve heard you tell me and others that you loved them so much that you wanted to stay here in the west. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. Do I share more about myself? Because it seems like you are one-upping me. I care about you and I wish better for you. But I just wish you’d listen.
Listen when I push you away. Listen when I punched you in the arm. Listen when I tell you about my deepest secrets. Listen when I say that I’m just not feeling it. Instead of telling me your experiences and walking away. Show me that you care enough to stay. Don’t say anything just look in my eyes, hold my hands, and listen.
Maybe I’m just scared, that you’ll find out about my faults and leave me. Angry, that you have multiple things in life to your advantage, yet you complain. Annoyed, of you and your complaints and your achievements. Jealous, of your life. Relieved, that I’m one of your closest friends. Tired, of constantly being in your shadow and being wary of what you do.
Maybe I’m just selfish.