I don’t sleep a lot because I think too much.

I think about the first time I lost a best friend. She was so many things I wasn’t, and I admired her for it. And to think it still haunts me is crazy because it’s was 5 years ago but I can’t seem to let it go. I forgave and moved on, but there’s always a part of me knowing I wasn’t good enough back then, and maybe even now. And it’s not even you specifically anymore because another friend who despised you did the same thing to me, only we were older and the words hurt more.

I think about the first time a boy told me he loved me. I was giddy and excited and sleepy being 3am but I still replayed Taylor Swift’s song “fifteen” in my head and the line she says “when you’re fifteen and somebody tells you they love you, you’re gonna believe them.” But I didn’t. And even after a year when we dated for that month I question what love really was or if I felt it.

I think about the time I first drank with my friends. I mean really drink; more than a half a shot of vodka. I was happy and didn’t have a care in the world. But I saw what it did to some people, and saying no became more of a challenge than just a word.

I think about the first boy who tried to get me to sleep with him. It was not romantic, something I want when I have sex for the first time. And I think about all the words he said to make me feel special and beautiful, but how many girls were there? And that broke my heart. But it wasn’t the first time. My father broke my heart long before any boy had the chance to.

I think about the girl who called me her best friend and ended up stabbing me in the back for the boy above this paragraph. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact someone would lie and manipulate our friendship for a boy who wasn’t even worth it. And I just want to know why.

I remember the first time I thought about suicide. I never wanted to kill myself, ever, but I’ve always wondered who would be at my funeral. Who would show up and say “wow she was so beautiful and loving. What happened?” Because I don’t want people to feel sorry. I want them to hurt with the words that had caused me to feel like my only option was to take my own life.

I think about my family most of all. I think about how a house isn’t a home, and family is not based on blood. I think about how I don’t even know how to have a proper relationship with a guy because I was never taught what love and relationships meant. And I think about all the times I stayed up crying while doors slammed and words were said that you can’t take back. And I think that’s why I don’t drink, because I know you can sober up in the morning, but you can’t take back the night before. I think about all the times I asked myself why my dad didn’t love me. Because when you’re not shown love, you don’t feel it. And to know my family is splitting up is slowly killing me but I can’t do anything. I never could. I think about all the answers I want but will never get. I have so much resentment toward my dad and my brother, but it’s more I’m jealous that I can’t have the bond they have. I used to be the favorite; I used to be daddy’s little girl. And I don’t know what went wrong.

People wonder why I don't sleep much. I wonder how I sleep at all.