It’s cold, just as a Minnesotan New Year’s should be. I stand there, curling my jacket around my meatless body. This does no good; the wind continues to tear through me effortlessly.

We had originally ventured out side to welcome in the New Year with a few fireworks. It didn’t take long for the others to feel the need to return to the warm interior of the house. I had just fallen down to make a snow angel when they informed me that they were going back inside. As I began waving my arms and legs in the snow I replied that I would be in soon. They didn’t hesitate any longer and retreated into the inviting warmth. When I was satisfied with my finished creation, I walked up the front stairs to join them. I turned the knob, but the door wouldn’t open. At first I thought I was not pulling hard enough, but the laughing faces pressed against the window told me I was wrong. I was locked out.

A shiver runs down my spine. I continuously rub my gloveless fingers to keep the blood moving, but they eventually go numb and I give up. I refuse to amuse them by begging for entrance. My legs begin to shake, causing my balance to go askew. I climb on the top of my friend’s S.U.V. to avoid falling into the cold snow. I lie there for an eternity, looking at the stars and thinking about the situation I came to be in.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been cast out this way. I’m frequently the center of a demeaning joke, the last to be informed, and the one left behind. My friends unknowingly force me to cope with my most dreaded fear of being alone. They have a tendency to degrade my presence. I know that they don’t mean to be cruel, and that I am probably too sensitive. I am usually able to ignore their comical jabs, but after a while it gets to be to be too much. I love my friends dearly, but sometimes they make me feel more cold and lonely than this freezing wind.
I feel a tear permanently freezing itself to my cheek. I breathe in deeply and attempt to avert my mind to something else. I hate tears. They are pathetic and weak; a complete waste of time. They do not comfort or reduce pain. They only make my chest hurt more.
“Hey you, get off my car and get in here!” one of my friends calls with a laugh. Apparently they’ve had enough fun for now. I chisel away the tears and shiver my way inside.
The pain would eventually leave, so even though my heart is heavy and I cannot move my fingers, I smile and joke about the situation with them. After all, it was just a little joke. Just a painful little joke.....