When I stop to think about it late at night, my life that is, those are the times I really feel alone. I think about how everything I do will add up in the end. Nothing will come of it, obviously, but it's nice to dream. Thinking of how my friends live and what they get to do everyday. How their parents are always there for them no matter what. The nice clothes they get, the presents at Christmas, birthdays with cake and ice-cream.

Then there's me, the freeloader friend who always follows everyone around. And I literally will forever. That is the one thing I have that no one else does; eternal life. How did I, a dirt poor cracker, ever deserve that? I wonder if I'll live to see my friends grow old and die, while I continue on. Wouldn't that be scary to experience? Sure, they still have so many years of life still ahead of them, but what about me? I feel so stupid and goth-like to hope for death, even though it's the honest truth.

The saddest thing is that I'll never be famous for my immortal state. Nobody ever remembers when I die. Maybe when I'm 150 and still alive people will start to notice. Maybe. Even if they did, would it be worth it to simply be just another odd person in the Guinness World Records? My friends would all be dead by then, so there would be no one to share the fame with. What it all comes down to is that I will eventually be left alone, living somewhere far away like a hermit. And when I think about that…that's when I can't help but to cry.