How alone I really am.

You never know how alone you really are until you look around and no one is there. Yes, I have friends who say that they’re there for me, but are they really? Well, that’s what they want me to think. By them telling me that they are, they think I believe it. Where are they now? Where have they been? They may be here physically, right beside me most of the time, but they aren’t really. For the last two years I have suffered from depression, gone though a long phase of anorexia, bulimia and cutting, no one knows about my struggle other than my closest friend, a friend that I am constantly there for, yet she gives nothing in return. She’s never there for me. Only when I make mistakes is when she comes along.

I’m the friend that always asks if every thing’s okay. And when I ask, I mean it. I’m one of the few out there that care, they may not think it but through all the shit I’ve been through, I know what it’s like to not have anybody and not have anyone ask me how I’m doing. I don’t want them feeling the same way. The feeling of loneliness, helplessness or weakness. It really sucks to hold everything in, keep it all bottled up inside knowing that you can’t say one word without being judged. I can’t even tell my own mom, she’ll judge me I know it, or I’m just telling myself that so I don’t end up feeling weak or pathetic. I’m scared she’ll judge me. I’m scared anyone will. I know people out there have it worse, but I just need someone to hear me out. Saying all this makes me feel weak and makes me feel like I’m a young girl who’s whining about her life, I don’t want that. But now you know a little something about me. I’m scared and alone.