A Try at Writing...

I wrote this right after my birthday last year..


As I sit amongst friends with conversation, laughter and goodwill, I am alone. You ask me what is wrong and who has wronged me. I can not answer for any wrongdoing is fiction. As you try to lighten my mood it only makes my heart ache all the more. For it makes me feel for you all the more. I dare not say anything of my feelings for fear of rejection and hatred. I want to tell you but to what purpose? what end? You, like those before you shall leave and my heart breaks again. Every time I think on it, my heart bleeds. I didn't want this.. I didn't ask for this but it is here. What to do with it?