Dear Fiery,
I too like to be loved by all. It's the end of our year. They've all started passing slambooks around. I just get them to pass it to someone sitting beside me. Not one wants me to write in their's. I guess no one wants to remember me nor record my presence. Don't I exist. I just sit there, staring all those who write in them. They've all ignored me. Pretended not to have seen my longing eyes. Its cruel. I was all tears when I came home. Shouted. Cried. But I won't get down. I shall not bow down... to anyone.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Fiery...
SpiritualPassions fired by loneliness... A quest indeed- to find the meaning of those little things... While doubts shadow truths, she still observes... sees what can be done... All the while, she notes things down in her dear diary, Fiery...
