Hopeless.

This is why hoping is good for none, especially me. This is why allowing your hopes to rise is worthless, it’s not opening a door to happiness it’s opening a door to bitterness.

I have little hope for love. I simply hope to be happy. Not the form of happiness created by a male’s affection but the state of happiness I create for myself.

I have little hope for the males attending my school. A majority of ‘em look similar, they all think they got swag for rockin’ The Hundreds shit and Stussy printed shirts. Finding a needle in a haystack is easier than finding a male who doesn’t exhale smoke and engulfs alcohol. Catching the eye of the ones up to par with the nearly impossibly standards mines is impossible. These males are the type girls feign over daily, to my demise I’m one of them; another face in the crowd never standing out.

I have little hope in maintaining friendships. I have little hope in staying close to you two. This time, I am the drifter. I am drifting because there is nothing to say anymore, there is almost nothing we share in common. You, you treat me like differently. And you? You’re just there, swaying to each others sides like magnates.

I have little hope in everyone and everything.