1642734778_punk-57-pdf

listened to me and didn’t make me feel pressured or awkward. I was glad to
finally have a friend.
Until I started wondering why I didn’t have more.
We’d keep walking and talking, but sooner or later, my eyes would drift
over to where everyone else was playing and laughing, and I’d start to feel
left out again. What made them so special to be crowded with people? Why
did they seem happier and a part of something better? What were they
doing and how were they behaving that I wasn’t?
I came to the conclusion that I needed to see myself as better before I
could be better. And by better, I mean popular. In putting myself on a
pedestal with whatever nasty behavior I could, I believed I was elevating
myself. And in a way, I guess I was. Being mean got those friends I thought
I wanted.
Now, there’s nothing I can say that makes what I did to you alright. I
know that. Even a kid knows how to be nice. But I wanted you to know that
I’m sorry. I was wrong, and I regret what I did. It was the first act in a long
line of acts that made me a very unhappy girl, and I see now how valuable
one good friend truly is and how little those popular kids actually mean in
the big, wide world.
I can’t change the past, but I will do better in the future.
I’m sorry if I bothered you. If you’re reading this and wondering why I
dwelled on something that was perhaps so insignificant to you. Maybe
you’re surrounded by a great life and tons of happiness, and I’m not even a
memory.
But if I hurt you, I’m sorry. I want you to know that.
You were a good friend, and you deserved better. Thank you for being
there for me when I needed you. I wish I’d done the same.