She thinks she’s not a good friend,
she’s not good at comforting people,
she makes them cry with the fucked up words that spill from her never-closed mouth.
she can listen,
but once someone’s bad news stops ringing in her ears,
She’s no help,
her opinion hurts almost as much as the sting from the words she’s told daily,
“I don’t trust you,
You tell everyone everything,
you can’t even keep your own secrets longer than a few days,
so why should i trust you..?”
She starts arguments,
she pisses friends off,
she’s talked over,
people ignore her then insult her for repeating herself again and again in a struggle to be heard over their rejection.
She’s the too-loud friend
with the over-exaggerated laugh, who talks at inappropriate moments,
with the dirtiest of dirty minds,
who makes dad jokes at fifteen,
and stupid puns that never make people laugh.
She’s the friend
who never knows what she's doing,
who copies other’s work,
who always takes
but never gives,
who hasn't thought of the future,
because she’s too scared to realise that everyone she loves will eventually leave her.
She’s the person in the room
who wears a mask like one wears makeup, a mask that not only covers the face,
but covers the emotions waiting patiently to overflow, ready to over-inform anyone who talks to her long enough.
Her mask is top-of-the-range,
it makes her friends, and parents think she’s happy.
If you asked someone what their first impression of her would be, they'd say that she was;
cheerful and loud and
happy and full-of-life and
happy and happy and ... happy?
But nobody knows,
(and never will know)
what’s hiding behind that mask,
and the glistening eyes that hold galaxies, and so, so much sadness.