Get out

Sometimes, when life gets full and i sink, i tell that friend everything i think, how other's gaze feels rough, how life gets tough. I listen about their problems too, "dont worry, itll get better soon" i say, as everyhing in me gets worse. after every memory with them, i feel my heart say "i dont have eyes, but i know what's best for you, just admit it, you hate them." dont get me wrong, theyre not that bad, but often times, they make me sad, i know i get them mad, but inside it makes me glad. i hate how she looks at me like she doesnt care, i sometimes find it fair. it might be rude to say out loud, and even when i could, i still couldn't find the way, to get out.