It's not like I'm nice. It's not like I'm pretty. I'm not even a decent person to hang around. Maybe that's why I'm sitting in an abandoned building all alone. Maybe that's why I have a bloody lip and broken wrist. Maybe that's why everyone left me.
It's wasn't always like this. I used to be surrounded by people who made me laugh and smile, and it wasn't fake. Slowly, my secrets got out, and they fled. They fled for the fucking hills. Because it got hard. Now, all they do is bully me. People who used to laugh with me now laugh at me.
My family was killed , murdered even. My last rays of happiness, blocked by the asshole of shade,called life.
Daniella Sears, teenage tragedy sob story. As if.