the miserable life of a miserable teenager

I let go of the thought that someone could love me for me.

I mean look at me, would you love me?

In my mind, deep into the fantasy world I created to disappear as a child, I had a love that saw me.

They changed faces, but the idea was always the same.

Tall, brunette, funny,

but most importantly they always wanted me and only me.

Nobody else mattered in their eyes, because I was everything they needed, forever.

It’s a shame, they aren’t real.

And they never will be.

Even if I found another broken heart that wanted mine, how could I muster the energy to want them?