i was sixteen

i was suicidal

i wasn’t driving

i wasn’t a good person.

you were sixteen

you were dealing with your own baggage

you learned to drive

you could never be a bad person.

i should have talked to you then.

told you what was happening

should have told you

you might lose your best friend.

was i still your best friend?

we hadn’t talked in god knows how long,

but you were still the

closest

thing to friendship that i had.

my girlfriend was just as bad as me,

my new friend turned out to emotionally fuck me over,

i didn’t talk to you,

or the other two girls from our middle school,

i didn’t talk to anyone

except those who were bad for me,

because i deserved it

even though i didn’t really.

it was the self hatred talking.

i was sixteen

i was harming myself to feel good.

i needed to talk to you

but you were too good for me.