I've never had enough friends;
The ones I have I do not want.
My best friend is a pathological liar.
She fabricated her life;
I can no longer handle her.
Her complaints are petty and so pathetic.
I can never believe her
When she talks of her success.
I know it is all a sad act,
For she will never accomplish
anything worthwhile.
Once I was jealous, now I only pity.
I've latched to my lover's friends,
Although I know I'm not welcome.
I make them all uncomfortable.
I'm not one of them,
Nor will I ever be.
I've joined their lives much too late.
I'm mentally unstable.
I can't form healthy friendships;
That accomplishment is far from my reach.
There's an illness inside me;
I've no hope to ever get better.
There is no cure for depression.