The Diary Of A Wallflower

Dear Father,
Last time I shut my eyes tight, made a wish and blew, I had 10 blue candles. Blue, my favorite color. 10 years straight, none of those wishes ever came true. There was this part of me which knew that it was just a stupid ritual that meant nothing, but than this other stupidly curious and stubbornly hopeful part would be like just maybe it will so what the heck, just make a wish anyways.

This year I have 16 orange candles, orange ugh. Btw.... I mean by the way, Robert brought them, not mom. You, I know, would never make such a mistake. Mom sung happy birthday in that special voice of hers, not to high not to low, just perfect. Robert sung it like it was some dirge. Brent, forget Brent! He just swept a chunk of icing off the cake and licked his fingers. Being the brat/PIG he is, he also happened to get away with it. Rachel was too busy to come, I really really wish that she was here.

Once the song was over, mom gave me that warm go on smile. She stopped telling me to make a wish 3 years ago. This year I don't know what had gotten in to me. I shut my eyes tight just like before and made a silent wish in my head:
"Please come back dad."
But unlike before, I knew without a doubt that this wish will not, CAN NOT come true. In one swift blow the candles, all 16 of them went out, taking with them my silent hope.
I'm sorry,
Love your little bunny

Chris