Happy Birthday to me . . .

Is it wrong to feel jealous?

I hate being the third wheel out. Or was it fifth wheel? Either way, it was me and other couples.

The night sky just isn't as beautiful that way.

And in the end, I'm still cold, aren't I? When the breeze rustles through the trees overhead, and caresses my face as though it knows why I have my back to them, when it wraps itself around me as I walk away to the hammock twenty feet away, I'm still cold, am I not?

And at the end of the night, when U. drops me off last and gives me a hug, it doesn't seem so bad, and I feel lighter, and then I get back into my room, and realize - it still isn't the same.

One day, I will get this right before it's too late. One day, I won't be afraid to get it right the first time. And, one day, I won't have an excuse.

That day seems far off, though.

And I'm still cold, and I'm still alone.

I feel like I'm whining, now.

So goodnight.

My Sweet Song - Toby Lightman