10/25, 08:33

Sometimes I feel like none of my friends really like me, again — I know at some points they might.

I can be funny enough to get one of them to laugh, or relatable enough that they might agree.

But in retrospect, I feel like most of the time I annoy them, or that all they know me by is my past or the cruel dimming of my present.

I say I act the way I do because I was traumatized, and it’s true, but sometimes it feels like I only anger them more saying that.

I’ve had a couple times when one of them, or multiple, will tell me I’m a terrible person.

Sometimes I wonder, if I’m that terrible, why do they pretend to fight that I should live?

If I’m really that impure, God would want me to kill myself.

The universe would sway the trees and give beautiful weather to congratulate the world of my death.

I really don’t mean to be bad, or read rooms wrong, or make stupid jokes, or anger people.

I cannot justify the things my brain does when I fight everyday that it just shut up, that I just shut up.

I feel bad that my friends are my friends, because they always seem better without me.