Wallflower

I remember when I was young, the wallflower I used to be. I would sit and watch others gaze into each other’s eyes, seeing the passion burning there. All the time I was thinking, will this ever happen to me? Many times, I tried to excerpt myself, and for my effort received questioning stares. Who is this weirdo? Where did he come from? It was a frustrating time, for this wallflower, who on the shelf would remain. I had no chat up lines, only a pen and pad, everyone who looked at me, must have thought that I was mad. I’d go to a party on the odd occasion I was invited, sit in the corner on my own. No one would talk to the odd man out. Therefore, I would leave, just the way I had come, no one on my arm, for that lonely trek home. All the time I wondered, is this the way my life is going to be. A wallflower on a lonely shelf. Shyness is an awful thing, and it is very lonely. For friends seem so very few. I found out much later. That I just had to let myself go. Much to my surprise in doing it. I was no longer a wallflower on a lonely shelf.