I don't know how long it's going to take to feel okay.
I don't know how long it's going to take before I stop feeling like a short tubby eight year old with a snotty nose and scabby knees and nobody to talk to.
I have no qualms about guilt tripping you. I'm not going to fake a smile and let you walk away from me, guilt-free. I'm not going to pretend that I'm okay with all of this. I'm not. I put so much love and energy and time into this, and now I feel robbed. You have no idea what it's like to have an empty inbox; no invites to the millions of parties that were on this weekend. You have no idea what it's like to realize that out of the million ball pictures, not one of them has you in it. You have no idea how fucking humiliating it is to plan things, then realize you have nobody to invite.
Don't you dare tell me that it'll 'take a little while to get used to'. I had sixteen years to figure that out. Don't look so shocked when I tell you that I have no-one else. You know that I have no-one else. Some of the people in our grade have been friends for nearly a decade. It's year twelve. It's too late to gatecrash now. You never get used to being alone, being lonely, feeling little and lost.
You have never respected me as a friend. You have never respected me as a person with equal say, with feelings and opinions. You have never treated me like you treat the others.
But now, you barely respect me as a person.