This time of year always bothers me. No because of the doom around the corner that is called Valentine’s Day. Of course not that simple but more to the fact that in 27 days my world becomes one year older. One more year around this floating rock. Left begging to be the first to someone, eventually.
My first school dance was a Valentine’s Day dance. No one asked me, my sister just pulled up. As she turned to me, I started to tear up. I didn’t want to go. No one liked me for who I was or the joker I tried to be.
I wanted nothing more than to disappear into the backseat and go back to being the sad sack of me. Happy as can be in a book or sowing an outfit or two. I was content when the world was small and comfortable. Like an old sweater or thrift store jeans. I didn’t care to fit in; why would I want to start now?
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