Dirt Poor and Craving Lonliness

It hurts to breathe,
Knowing what's coming,
The same old sh*t,
Each passing day.
My friends are real supportive,
But I don't want their comfort,
their pity.
I'm not charity.
I'd rather die,
Than accept the attention.
My boyfriend must be proud,
of his scrub girl,
she treats him horribly anyways,
He can't care as much as he says,
If he cared he'd go away,
Everyone would go away,
If they knew how much,
It hurts me to breathe.