Family

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I am an only child. Always alone. Always by myself. I’ve learned to like my alone time. I’m able to do the things I want without an annoying sibling to distract me. I’m able to receive things and not share them. I have all of my parent’s attention in theory. They shouldn’t forget about me to focus on their other child, but they always leave me alone. I’ve sometimes thought about what it would be like to have a sibling or loving parents. A family that notices when I’m not feeling myself. To always be there for me. To always support me in my endeavors no matter what. To notice if I were gone. But I never let myself imagine a world where that actually existed.

Home

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When I came home from school, my parents didn’t say anything to me. They didn’t ask about my day. They didn’t say hello. They didn’t even notice me. They never do. But it’s okay. I’m used to it. I’m used to their apathy. It doesn’t hurt me anymore like it used to. I got over it. When I see a functioning and affectionate family, I sometimes let myself think of what it would be like if that were me. I try to stop myself, but I still think of an alternate reality where they loved me or even just simply noticed my presence. Where they care about me and my problems and my interests and my future. But I learned long ago that this house, this structure, isn’t my home. My parents aren’t my home. My family isn’t my home. At school, I didn’t have friends. I isolated myself from everyone, thinking they would be like them. No one asked anyway. No one noticed. People have never been my thing. I’ve learned to find a home within myself. I had to learn. I had to tell myself that even if no one else cared, they would not stay in my life forever. The only person I need is myself. I needed to teach myself that.

Could’ve

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I always think about what I could’ve been. What I could’ve done differently. What I could’ve improved on. If I had kept in touch with this person, what could have been? Would we still be close? Would we still be best friends? Would it be like it used to be? How different would my life be if we were still together like we promised? One small decision contains a multitude of directions that will lead one’s life in a different path. I always think, “What could’ve been if I made this decision? Would my life be better? Would I still end up miserable?” These questions never leave my mind. I tend to change the past in my imagination and think of better outcomes in specific situations. My head always invents alternate realities that I would prefer to my reality. But I know that all of this thinking is pointless. That this will get me nowhere if I keep thinking and don’t put my thoughts into action. I know. I know.

Close Friends

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We used to be close friends, talking about anything and everything as good friends do. We had a few classes together and promised that we would always stay by each other’s sides. We sat next to each other in class and did all our projects together. We were overachievers and asked the teacher for more work when there was free time. We used to do all these things together. Where did that all go? Where did it go? I trusted you, but I realized you never deserved it. I thought I knew you, but I never did. You used to be the person I trusted the most, the person I would share things about myself that I would never share with anyone else. But you lied to me. You lied about something you knew would hurt me. Why would you do that? Everything we had is now a memory. Not a good one but a memory that elicits anger out of me. I don’t miss you. There is no reason to. I just miss what we had. 

Abandonment

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I have these friends that I know are real. I know that they love me and that they care about me. But she made me believe that there will come a time when they will leave. Where we will split apart and go our own ways because of what she did to me. I read somewhere that said, “Could you have a real friendship if some part of you was always expecting betrayal?” I constantly think about that line. Do I really have friends if I believe they will always leave me in the end? There is this thought in the back of my mind that if I reveal something vulnerable about myself, they will use it against me. They will tell someone else and talk bad about me behind my back. They will use it to hurt me, hurt me as if I were a punching bag anticipating a hit. Are they really my friends if I don’t trust them with a single thing about myself? If they don’t actually know anything about me? These questions always lay in the back of my head whenever I get close to someone or share something about myself. Will you leave me, too? Will you leave me as everyone else did?