Days like these the world feels at its end, looking around I find not one single person by me, no parent, lover nor friend, I have died inside and as the days go by it gets harder and harder to pretend, fake smiles, empty hugs, emotionless sex, used at every whim, when I broke, it was as if no one noticed nor cared to ask, growing up I always made it a way of life being kind it had became my most important task, with my kindness came people's hate, as long as I can remember being a doormat is what I assumed would...