I’m not happy. I never am. I’m sorry for the way my life turned out. I’m sorry for the way I’ve been used. But they can’t hurt me if I pretend I’m not broken inside...right?

When I was 10, my best friend spread rumors about me. All of my friends turned their back on me because they believed her and called me a thief. They would laugh and point at me. I thought my teacher believed my innocence. I really did. For the first time in my life, I learned what betrayal was.

I learned at the age of 13 that I am worthless and a piece of trash. That I don’t belong in this world and the fact that I am not good enough to live in it. This was the first year I have been physically abused.

At age 16, I told myself to stop trusting people. The only reason they “hang” with you is to use you. Then they laugh and laugh until they can’t and when even you think you have become worse than trash...there’s no hope left.

I am 17 now. I want to believe I am not trash. My family and I have moved states. I have a chance. I want to change. But I’m still trash. And they don’t know. They won’t know. I won’t let them know. I will smile. I will pretend I live the best life in the whole world. I will make friends. Friends I can trust. I will find the good in them...and they will find it in me.

I may be trash, but I’m still usable trash. That’s why I will never get far before falling over my own two legs again.