Friendless and sad.

 I’d love to know when it was, exactly, that I stopped losing friends. Just two years ago, back in the 8th grade, I had oodles of friends that I could talk to whenever I wanted and felt more than comfortable talking to. I was more personable. But, sometime in the last two years, I’ve lost that social-ness and I’m…I dunno. I feel alone. 

I have Faustine, still, after seven years. And that’s great, except she left school. Or was expelled. Or however you look at it, she’s not here. She has her own problems, and I’m not her main concern. 

Renee and I stopped talking forever ago. Years, upon years, upon years ago. Not that I’m surprised. We haven’t had a real conversation since early last year, and, before that, it wasn’t like we were still exactly friends. 

Sabrina and I are falling apart. I can feel that already. And I’m terrified. I can’t lose Sabrina. Not when I’ve already lost Yai and Miriam and Faustine and Renee. Without Sabrina, I won’t have any of my childhood friends left besides Elena. (Not that Yai was a childhood friend.) 

Aimee and I rarely get to exchange more than a few sentences. Hannah Ann (I’m going to be using their middle names, because I know about three Hannah’s) and I are even lucky to exchange a strained smile in the hallway. Megan, Kristin, Meghan, and Taylor all have each other and don’t really need me. 

That leaves Halie. Who has Aimee. Who doesn’t need me. 

And, sometimes, when I’m sitting in class watching students talk and giggle and be friendly, I realize how alone I am. How the only real friends I have are Halie and Sabrina, and the rest are just acquaintances at best. 

And it sucks. It really sucks to know that, in high school, where everyone has friends, and everyone has someone who’d be mortified and unable to go on without them, I…don’t. I don’t have anyone like that. Sure, a few people would be saddened without me, but I always realize that they’d have someone more important to move onto if I were gone. And that really hurts, because I want to feel loved.

And it’s times like this that I really miss Dani. I know she loves me more than anyone, and I love her just as much, but I forgot since Yai and Miriam left how much it hurts to love someone and need someone so much that’s so far away. It’s platonic, it is, but I tend to devote myself to the friends I dub as my "best" friends, and, right now, Dani is mine. And I hope she stays forever like she says, unlike Yai and Miriam. 

But I still need her here. Here, in Indiana, where I could cry and just hug her and maybe not feel so alone. But part of me is worried because what if she were here, and I still felt lonely? That’s what I worry about most. What if I’m just stuck in this deep hole of perpetual loneliness my whole life? Yes, that’s dramatic. But, you know what? I don’t really care. That’s how I feel, and as a teenage girl growing up in a nowhere town with dreams of being famous and loved but no motivation to do so, my feelings are dramatic. 

Sometimes, I really worry that my mental stability is just slipping away from me. I feel like I’m going crazier and crazier every day. Every day, it’s like I’m just a day closer to suicide. I get more and more anxious around people every time I come to school; I get quieter and less willing to talk every week; every morning is a struggle to get myself up against my deepest, darkest wish that I just hadn’t woken up. And every morning is like that anymore. I spend my mornings wishing I hadn’t woken up. I spend my days wishing a horrible accident would happen and I’d day. And I spend my evenings dreading waking up and doing all of that all over again. And I’m getting more and more sick of it. I’m tired of school. I’m tired of life. I feel like I’m 16, and I’ve already my full time. Like I’m done years before my time. 

I’m already doing what I love. Being a teenager with no responsibilities. The depression makes it bittersweet, but when I’m home, alone, on my computer, doing what I want to do with my time, that’s what I love. And I feel hopeless, because there’s nothing I want to do with my life. There’s no job that I feel would make me happy. It all feels trivial, unneeded, and like a struggle. I’m struggling against the urge to end my life. Grab the pill bottle, hold that gun in my hand, slit a vein, suffocate myself in my sleep or drown myself in the bath.All of those options get more and more tempting each day. But I’m a coward. And forcing myself to do more than cut my thighs when I feel this way is…hard. Even if I want to. My body’s desire to live surpasses my brain’s desire to die. And that’s, honestly, what scares me the most. Living the next sixty-four or so years feeling this way. I’ve only felt like this since the sixth grade, for three years, and I’m already on the verge of yelling "FUCK IT" and ending it. Just so it’s over. 

Maybe I’m being dramatic and whiny. It doesn’t really matter what anyone thinks about these thoughts, because, regardless of  if my feelings are dramatic or stupid or if they’ll pass, this is what I feel now. And I hate it.

I just want it to end.