I hate the weekends because they remind me how lonely I am

I hate that I only have time to sit in my bed to think about the friends that I don’t have , I have to remember all those who called themselves my friends and forgot about me in the blink of an eye

I hate thinking about those who only a year ago said to love me and be there for me but when I asked for help they turned their backs

I hate to remember those who gave me the idea to belong, to be part of a group, to have friends, just to only be another fake, another failure, another lie

I hate people who pretends to be something they are not, and even worse, I hate I always believe in people

I hate the weekends because my mind and soul are filled with resentment, with anger and disappointment

I hate feeling this way , specially because of people who couldn’t Care less about me

I hate that everyday I think how none of them wished me happy birthday, or text me to know if I’m okay.

I hate when I think about future events when I won’t be able to have friends with me , thinking about a weeding without bridesmaids, concerts without someone to invite, girls night without another girls.

I hate being alone, I hate being angry at them.

But I hate even more the fact that I miss having someone.