the miserable life of a miserable teenager

Roughly 5’3” 120lbs, blonde, doesn't want to be found. I lost her.

Yes, you’ve heard it before.

But when I needed her most,

I abandoned her.

It’s my fault, it’s her fault.

We’re the same fucking person,

but it doesn’t feel like it.

She was happy, hopeful, living.

I am miserable, bleak, dying.

I want to find her, but she doesn’t feel wanted.

She thinks they’ll just hurt her again.

So instead, I get to hurt.