If you were here with me during these times you were a real friend, you still might be, but even how sad or mad I am about it. Nothing will happen. Nothing, Nothing, Nothing. Because I don’t want to be alive, But I don’t want to die. People can call me fake. They can call me a slut, they can call me a whore. I’ll just laugh it off. With a few tears. Everybody has their own issues, so don’t make it worse for some people. I will never get over the past even if you tell me too. I will always remember the words that stabbed me like a knife. But I can act like I don’t. some people want attention, those are the rudest people you know. I know how to live my life, so stop trying to tell me what to do. I won’t die, because it’s not your choice. It’s mine. I could call out my fake friends but they’d just tell me to die more. So, what’s wrong with me? Why do I attract so many fake friends?