tired. that's the only way i can explain how i feel right now. tired. tired of being broken inside, tired of feeling hurt, tired of feeling like i’ll never be good enough for anyone. tired of feeling like a complete and total waste. tired of feeling incomplete and empty. i wonder how long it’s going to take before i get mine. looking hopelessly out my windows, i can’t help but wonder what it’s like. what it’s like outside of these walls, outside of this pathetic, hideous town, outside of this dull state. gazing at the rare beauty possessed here such as the flawlessly painted pastel baby-blue sky, i remind myself that somewhere, somewhere very far away, there’s a place that in the future i could call my home. a place where people (i.e., guys) are actually compassionate and loving— like the kind you read about in mushy teenage romance novels. the ones you dream about. a place where i could find my happy ending. in all the chaos and troubles i’ve experienced, something to look forward to. something that’ll make all this pain feel like it’s worth it in the end.?i feel like through everything, i always get the short end of the stick. i feel like no matter what i accomplish, achieve, or do correctly, it’s all gone to waste. every time something good happens, i get my hopes up. i think to myself that maybe this time things will be different. then the good i feel is short-lived, and there i’m left. crushed.?maybe next times things will be different.