Sad Clown, Bad Summer

I pretend.
I pretend to not care about a lot of stuff.
I ignore it to the point where I pretend it's not real.
Then, after a while, it all blows up in my face.
After it does that, it's like I have nothing left.
It's like all I have now is a hollowed out chest.
I have nothing else going for me.
I have nothing else to live for.
Nothingness.
A whole sea of it.
I'm a very broken person.
Like a broken clock.
I have seen things most kids my age haven't.
I've felt things most kids my age haven't.
I've loved more than most kids my age have.
And I've lost more than most kids my age have.
The depth of my broken life goes much deeper then just what's seen on the surface.
You screwed up my life.
And I'm sick of blaming you for my problems.
But it's you.
I miss you so much I don't even realize it.
I miss my best friend.
That does not mean I want to be with you.
But that you were my best friend.
And I loved you so much.
I can't bring myself to face the facts until I get to the root of the problem.
And you're it.
And as my hair sticks to my face as tears roll down my face, you're okay.
You both are.
All of you.
And everyday for months I've acted as though I'm fine.
But it comes back to bite me.
I'm a pretty sad kid.
But I had a pretty bad summer.
And the fact that I'm sick of hearing myself think about it, let alone talk about it says something.
Sick.
That's what I am.
I am nothing.
To no one.
No one cares.
I don't care.
It's like I'm too different people.
The broken me, and the me that's saying shut the hell up.
The pain I've carried around for so long.
I feel so alone.
I'm so angry inside.
I am becoming meaner every day.
Less gentle.
Less kind.
Less, lovable.
This is a piece of advice for everyone.
Everyone has their problems.
But lend a hand once in a while.
It'd be appreciated.