Meraki // Poetry & Short Stories

Dear Friend (2)

Warnings: angsty ranting and mentions of suicide

+++

Dear friend,

Why are you such a jerk?

Why can't you just accept that your opinion is your opinion, not fact?

Why can't you realize your own ignorance and let me be?

Why can't you see that every word uttered from your mouth has bothered me?

Why didn't you stop?

You didn't notice, did you?

You seem to think you can get on by being a complete jackass to me all the time.

You seem to expect me to get upset over every comment you make just so you have something to make fun of.

You seem to believe that this is what they call a 'friendship'.

Well let me tell you something. Maybe this time you'll let the truth actually sink in rather than rejecting it with your uninformed opinions as if you are the most intelligent being on this god forsaken planet.

You are a bad person.

You constantly belittle me, ignore my feelings, and overlook my thoughts because you want a good laugh.

You always make horrible jokes that step far over the line of what is acceptable and what isn't

You blame your own faults on outside factors or even sometimes spin it on me to make me look like the bad guy.

You are pathetic, truly. But if I said that to your face, you would laugh and tell me to quit joking.

But I'm serious this time.

I can't continue to swallow my emotions so that you can feel good about yourself.

Yes, I felt bad for you.

Yes, I still sometimes see in you the kind but lost person I befriended in grade school.

Yes, I hardly have any friends as it is and I oh so desperately need you.

But I can't take your negativity anymore.

You push me.

You drive me over the edge.

You ignore the fact that I'm in a bad mood and get me all riled up so that I start sobbing to myself in my own frustration.

But you wouldn't know, would you?

There's no way in hell I'd ever tell you that you're one of the reasons I have cried myself to sleep.

I wanted to be able to trust you, before. I would tell you things in the hopes that you would care.

But you didn't.

And now I regret ever showing any weakness to you.

Because now you make me feel like a loser for my interests.

You tell me I'm weird.

You tell me I'm a nerd.

You make fun of the things I like to do.

You told me to off myself on a number of occasions, some of which were when I already wanted to erase myself right out of this world and you didn't seem to notice.

I just can't stand talking to you because you make me think of every reason I hate myself and I want to hate you for it but I'm so consumed within myself already that you have become this muffled voice on the outside urging me closer to the edge.

You make me suicidal.

You make me hate the world.

You're one of the reasons I can't stand my own generation.

Are you happy?

I know you aren't.

I know you hate yourself, too.

But if you really hated yourself, you wouldn't let anyone else feel that way.

You wouldn't force someone into a state of low self esteem just to feel high and mighty.

That's sick.

You're sick.

And I hate you.

I hate you.
I hate you.
I hate you.
I hate you.
I hate you.