Where does the time go? I ask myself this daily. I must be the oldest of all my friends and foes, for they've all passed on. I stand alone now, though I hope that one day changes. Sometime soon, as I am lonely. I don't know what it is about me, perhaps my personality, I try my best to get along with everybody, but I have yet to succeed entirely. Sometimes things seem to be going so well, I make them smile, I make them laugh, I make two lovers love like they never have before, like it is new again, once more exciting. I have that effect on people.

Unfortunately, after knowing my friends for so long, things just seem to take a fall for the worst.
The first two months we share are our favourite, we get along like we were made for one another, my friends will work all day, and afterwards come back to me, where they can finally relax. I have that effect on people.

I once believed that I must be the most unique friend around, I've seen relationships crumble before my eyes, but never mine, not once. Well, I told myself that when I made my first friend, but her and I were only friends for so long, until she moved on. I hated myself for losing her, I thought maybe it was my over-attachment, my insecurities, though why should I have any? They say I am made of stone, how can I have feelings?

My life has been spent debating on what I really am, because I must not be that great of a friend. How can I be a good friend when I have made two people hate the other? Or am I just blaming myself, for sitting back and watching it happen, cringing when he punched her, but never making it stop, never attempting. Perhaps, I thought, I would be a better babysitter. The kids loved me, they knew what they liked about me the most, and they knew when was the best time to come around. They would always smile, always laugh. They made my life worth living.

I feel empty now though, the kids have left, the lovers have separated, I've seen this happen for decades. I've been left alone to ask myself,  why me? Am I not special? For I feel as though after so long I am barely noticed, just a backdrop in the lives of my friends.

I will never love anybody, never share a friendship like I did with little Jake. He was the best friend anybody could ever have. I'd protect him when he needed me, I would care for his father (not because I liked his father, but Jake would need him later on in life, I knew this).

Jake would cry when I was abused, every punch that was swung at my exterior, he would scream for his father to stop. When his father was too abusive toward him, Jake knew where he could go. I would protect him.

Jake was a unique friend, probably because he was the only friend who truly noticed me, who truly loved me for who I was. I was always new to Jake, because Jake understood that I was more than just what others saw me as. When he cried, he would feel me crying with him. I loved the boy, I felt his pain as if it were mine.

Jake was hated by his father, and considered to be a loner. It is my fault, I will forever blame myself until the day I die. Jake never needed friends from school, he had me, and I was the best friend anybody could ever have. His father would disagree, but his father doesn't understand, nor had any other friend of mine.

Jake and I would travel together, visiting outer-space, hiding from enemy soldiers, building cities and homes, we did everything anybody alive could ever imagine.

Every night Jake would smile, and it would warm my heart each time. “Goodnight, my friend,” he'd began to say, “I love you, I love you.” Every time he would repeat those three words twice, it was all I had to look forward to.

During the day when Jake was at school, his father was destructive, and each day Jake would see these bruises left on me, what kind of friend was his father? Why was Jake his friend? Why was Jake my friend for not sticking up for me, for after a while he gave up.

I wonder now why it took me so long to realize that Jake no longer cared, when his father would abuse me, he began to just leave. I would cry, and I would hurt, and watch my little friend go. When he returned, I was more hurt than ever, physically, if not emotionally. The holes in my body were too common to notice anymore. Jake would not even tell me, “Hello”.

So, as I said, what could it be? My over-attachment issues? My insecurities? Is it any wonder why I may have so many?

Jake grew up, his father grew too. Older, drunker, weaker, but meaner. My value decreased daily, for I grew weaker with the old man. It was almost as if we were one, him and I. Jake no longer played, he was out each night, and after years of loving our friendship, he'd return drunk as his father. Abusive too, angry, aggressive.

More abuse, more abuse, more abuse.

I screamed, I begged, I'd plead each fist they swung. One in one room, one in the other, holes, holes, holes, pain, pain pain.

I couldn't take it any longer.

I erupted.

I detonated my eyes, or what my friends past called windows. I scratched and tore at my flesh bone, or what my friends called walls. I screamed in frustration, agony, and pain. The two of them, Jake and Dad both stopped their abuse at once. They stormed from their rooms, facing one another in the hallway, eyes wide, in fear. I cried that night, cried and they heard. Jake wept with me, his father ran scared. Jake too followed. I was alone again.

I've heard from teachers who lived with me once, that everybody must make sacrifices in life. Am I not alive? I've sacrificed the most. I've lost more than love, I've lost more than friends. I've lost everything, I've been abused, I've been destroyed, my value is nothing.
Perhaps it is destiny, I've scared them away. They hate me now, I have that effect on people.
I am alone, I am depressed, and I am weak. People have that effect on me.