The discarded

I dreamt about a lost friend tonight. I dreamt her family moved into the same apartment as mine did. She had lost half her weight though and were even twice as skinny as me. Every time we encountered each other she voiced how stupid she thought I was and how everything I did was stupid and meaningless. It hurt.

I know that the reason she stopped being my friend was because I was boring and couldn't bring anything into her life, not to humiliate me or anything. But I will never be able to shake off not being good enough. I really treasured her and thought I had a kindred spirit in her. The heartbreaks of my friends are five hundred thousand times worse than the heartbreaks of lovers. I put a lot of myself into those I treasure and I'd lay down my life for them any time.

I'm not happy with what I am right now, but it's not like I am not trying to change. It's hard being this weak, and horrible to be this pathetic. It was that which scared her away in the first place.

I still have the drawing I got from her displayed in my room. I treasure it dearly though she's almost embarrassed by the quality now (she improves at a great pace).

"Don't walk away!
I just can't find the right things to say."
- Don't walk away, by Headstone.

I guess it lingers so much because I care. It seems the only thing I'm good at these days is loosing people and screwing things up.