Damn you, Feeling.

What makes me different than her? Is it bad that I don't hurt your feelings? Is that what seperates her and me, the fact that I've never broken your heart? I didn't used to care about this. I didn't used to need your acceptance. I didn't used to have to pretend that I'm not hurting. I didn't used to have to write this sappy stuff. But now that I do, and she's at it again all I can do is wonder. What makes me different than her? I'll tell you what. When she's crushed you again and your in the corner of the room, acting like you're not crying, and I come in and I lift you up, and put a temporary band-aid on the wound she's left, and you look at me through reddened eyes and say, "Thanks for being such a good friend." That's what makes me different. All I am is a friend. *to my friend who has ruined my care-free life. I would give this a zero, myself, but I had to get this stuff out.*