Why? Why did you decide to hurt me? I thought you were my friend. I trusted you. I supported you in your darkest times, you made mine. You used me as a coping mechanism, because you knew, whatever you did to me I would always, always apologize to you, blame it on myself. For the things you decided to do. I am not a doll for you to play with. For you to use until I wasn't fun anymore. Till I was boring to you. Till I could no longer be trusted. You showed me your scars, told me you were in pain. I said I would always be there for you. You took that and used it, used me. Then you weren't in pain. Then I was. Up late at night, cutting myself because I thought it was my fault. It was never my fault. I wish that I could go back in time and stand up to you one time, one time. But I did not. Because you said you were in pain. But I was the one cutting deeper into my skin each night, starving myself, hating myself, faking being okay. If I got a penny for each time I said I was fine, I was okay, I was good, maybe I would be as rich as you. You spent your free time hurting me. Because you were popular and decided that I was only the last option if you wanted to. You hurt me on the inside only when no one was looking, you hurt me on the outside. I spend every single night wondering what I did wrong. For some reason, I always came back to you. I don’t know if it was because I had none else or if it was because you were popular but I needed you, your attention, your affection. But doing this I drained myself to nothing. I was a ghost. But this ghost could still be hurt. One day you decided that I was no longer useful and left me, acting as if I was nothing. I was alone. I am still alone. People say that their my friend but they only hang out with me in their free time, and I will always be their last choice. I help others, because I know there is no helping me.