I don't care anymore. I don't care about the pain. I don't care about the amount of tears I have cried. I don't care about the depression or the lonleyness or the or the frusturarion anymore. Because in a few weeks, a few days, maybe even a few hours I'll be gone. I'll be done with all of this. And when that happens you all can have a party. Nobody cares about me. Nobody remembers the times I've let them cry to me or the times I have helped them through their problems or the times I've made them smile and laugh. All anybody can remember are the times I have come to them for help. The times I have cried on them. The times I've stressed them out or kept them up late at night because I needed help. But that's all okay. Because I don't care anymore. Soon I will be gone and everybody can have a party because they don't need to worry about stupid, annoying, irritating Wendy anymore. And I'm fine with that. They can go have their parties. Because even though I've tried my hardest to be a good friend nothing works anymore. Nobody cares if I'm sad or lonely or depressed or anything. The only time anybody cares is when I can help them or to get mad at and I'm sick of it! Thank you for giving me the best days of my life. I hope I didn't give you the worst days. So you go live your life. I'm perfectly fine ending mine to make you happy.