Feeling

I think my time is up. I can feel it. They say the more you suffer on earth the more rewards you’ll get when you’re in heaven. But I never needed any rewards; all I needed was love, a certain someone’s love. But since I lost him and lost myself at that, I think my time is up here. Whatever that means.

Nobody listens. Nobody has time to listen, at least not anymore. I’m tired of waiting to fit into my friend’s schedules. Tired of hoping they’ll call, because usually they never do. I don’t want to see my friends for half-an-hour. Thirty minutes out of Fourteen Thousand Forty. I feel so special. It’s not their fault anyway. They move forward and I move 3,000 steps back, or worse: I stay exactly where I am.

I think my time is up. I want to go someplace else. I want to be someone else. What would I change about my life? Almost everything. Almost. I wouldn’t change my friends or him, because maybe if I was different they’d love me more.