You saw me today.
You walked past me 17 times.
You said "hi" to everyone.
Except me.
Do you hate me?
Did I do something wrong?
If I did, I'm sorry.
Just please, talk to me again.
You're the only one that makes me feel sane.
The only one that makes me feel like everything will be okay.
The only one that can truly talk me out of cutting.
But you don't see that.
You don't care.
I want you to ask me one more time.
Are you okay?
Because you know that I will say that I'm fine.
But for some reason, you can tell that I'm not.
You can see through my fake smile that I always have on.
You talked to me when I was sad.
You were the only one that ever did.
Everyone else believed me.
Everyone else thought that I was and am truly okay.
But you're different.
You know that I am not, nor never was.
You are the only one that says I know you're not okay.
The only one that asks me again what's wrong.
You're the only one I came out to.
One of the few that knows my backstory.
One of the few of those few that doesn't treat me different.
But you changed.
Or I changed.
I don't even know anymore.
That is now all gone.
Now you hang out with people who hate me.
Now you don't look at me when you pass me in the halls.
Now you avoid me every chance you get.
Except for those few times.
That I catch you staring at me.
Almost as if, you want to talk to me.
But I'm the weird girl that everyone knows but no one likes.
So you don't.
Today you stared at me a lot.
But not once did you talk to me.
You said that you were different.
That you wouldn't leave.
That who I am doesn't change how you act towards me.
But it did.
And now I'm lost.
Tonight was really bad for me.
There were people everywhere.
I couldn't stop shaking.
I started to hyperventilate.
You looked at me like you wanted to make sure that I was okay.
But you were with your friends.
So you didn't.
Because they looked at me like I was crazy.
I mean, I guess I am.
I might as well be.
I just want one more.
One more time for you to ask if I'm okay.
One more time for you to comfort me.
One more time.
