Roadkill

I am beyond help. I wish I was dead. Every time I think I might be getting my life back together, he comes along and runs me over again. And now I'm back where I started, with no progress, no love, and no hope. Fuck this life. I'm clrealy not good enough for it. If I was, someone would want me, would choose me. But as always, I'm the leftovers, the ugly girl next door that is kind of like a dog; sometimes you pet it, and sometimes you kick it. You'd think I'd be used to it by now. You'd think I would have resigned myself to being the ugly lonely girl that no one wants, because that is what I have always been. The girl standing behind me is always the one chosen. I wish I could at least be one of those kids who is chosen last for the team. I can't even get that much. So now I'm having a mental breakdown because everything I've ever been told is a lie: no one will ever love me, things will never work out for the best, and it will never happen. I am doomed to die an early, lonely death caused by getting run over when all I wanted was to get to the other side. Like roadkill.