I am lonely. I'm lonely because I
don't like talking to people and the only person
I'm friends with is a boy who only
communicates through short sentences he'd written on his
notepad. I'm also ironic. I'm ironic because my name
is Summer but my eyes are like winter and when I talk it sounds
like rain.I'm weird. I'm weird because I make an effort not
to talk to people even if they make an effort to talk to me. I
am lonely. I'm lonely because I've been left too many times
to count. Yet, no matter how many times everyone leaves me with no
one I have this small sliver of hope that haunts me to no
end. It was like I was falling into a pitch black hole and I
was okay with it. . Not because everything would finally be over,
because that small sliver of hope made me feel like at the end
I'll find that something that would make the pitch black hole
full of color.
