Why are you so mean to me? Your words are knives that cut me open. You leave me there bleeding to death hoping that you might come along and help me. Your mouth is a bomb about to explode of mean words to say to me. I want to roll up into a ball and sit in the corner every time you say something about me, because I know what you say is something mean.
Why are so rude to me? I send you pieces of my writing over email asking you to reply and help me gain confidence in the piece but you just blow me off. You never reply back. Whenever I'm over at your house and you check your email you check all your folders in your inbox. My eyes look over at the drafts, nothing. Junk mail, nothing either. Your deleted folder is filled as you scroll down and see what is in there. I had to stop my mouth from dropping as I see all my pieces of writing I sent to you, unread and deleted.
Why do you hurt me? Does hurting me give you a sense of accomplishment? Is it when you know that you hurt me hard in the heart let you know you are stronger than me?
Why do you lie to me? Does making things up so you can one up me make you think you are superior to me? When I tell you about the amazing thing that happened you don't jump up and down with me you just shrug it off and say something about how it has happened to you before.
Why is it that you tell me things that will hurt me? When you told me about the conversation you had with my crush about him only liking me on a scale of one to ten a five or six and you were a nine. It made me feel horrible. I wanted to cry and scream. Not for the context of what you told me; it was the fact that you would actually tell it to me. What hurt even worse was that you were begging me for weeks trying to get me to tell you who I had a crush on, because you were sensing I was falling in love hard. You told me it didn't matter who it was even it was a guy you had a crush on. You told me you were over him anyway and then you turn around and ask him.
Why do you do this to me? I used to consider you one of my very good friends. Someone who I could tell anything to. Someone who I could giggle with and laugh about anything. Now, I'm not so sure. I begin to wonder if this is the first time you have lied to me in all the years I have known you.
Why, I ask? Why?
