The
last
year
of
highschool
2000
I
had
one
of those
epic
level
falling
outs
complete
with
Ostrasizm,
betrayal,
and
that
uneasy
feeling
that
you
get
when
something
horrible
has
gone
wrong
and
you
feel
like
if
you
could
just
get
someone
to
listen
then
it
would
all
wash
away.
It
lead
me
to
a
few
bottles
and
the
fake
and
empty
world
of
raves
where
you
don't
even
have
to
use
your
real
name
with
people.
I
gave
up
the
raves
quickly
when
I
realized
that
I
couldn't
stand
the
music
or
people.
It
was
misserable
and
I
hurt
and
I
even
found
a
way
to
get
back
at
most
the
people
who
hurt
me
because
at
the
time
I
thought
it
would
make
me
feel
better.
Then
five
years
later
I
realized
that
there
lives
had
gone
on
and
mine
hadn't.
I've
tried
many
things
to
come
to
peace
with
that
part
of
my
life,
I've
told
myself
that
there
white
picket
lifestyles
are
old
news.
Nobody
watches
leave
it
to
beaver
anymore.
It's
all
about
Intervention
these
days.
I
looked
a
few
up
that
had
turned
out
just
as
misserable
as
me.
Hell, one
guy
killed
himself.
For
me,
what
I
realy
couldn't
get
over
was
the
way
down
deep
feeling
that
maybe
I
deserved
it.
They
called
me
a
bastard,
and
a
liar,
and
took
all
the
things
I
had
comfided
in
them
and
shoved
it
back
in
my
face.
And
I
was
hurt
and
mad
but
for
the
life
of
me
I
couldn't
think
of
a
good
reason
for
them
not
to
reject
me.
I
would.
I
hurt
because
they
had
been
the
first
people
in
a
long
time
to
act
like
they
understood
me,
accepted
me,
and
made
me
feel
ok
even
when
I
didn't
want
to.
They
had
told
me
I
was
wrong
about
myself
and
I
started
to
beleive
them.
They
took
that
all
a
way
because
of
one
lie
someones
girlfriend
had
said
because
she
didn't
like
me.
She
even
admitted
it
when
the
dust
settled
but
the
damage
had
been
done.
This
isn't
an
I
need
advice
blog
or
an
opportunity
to
be
reminded
to
pray
and
turn
it
over.
I've
been
coming
to
peace
with
this
for
the
past
two
years.
I've
done
the
praying
for
them
and
I've
even
ment
it.
I've
delved
as
far
into
my
part
of
it
as
I
could
possibly
go.
And
the
once
open
would
it
has
been,
is
now
a
faint
scar
and
a
mild
feeling
of
regret
and
morning.
Some
times
the
best
way
to
ease
the
pain
comes
in
the
telling.
