I was home alone, no one else to ruin my peace. If only the peace was a happy sort for me. The rain came down outside, pattering against the window's glass like little grains of sand on stone. You'd think with all the beautiful paintings on the walls in my home, I'd never feel upset or for this matter, depressed. This wasn't the case. I was never that lucky. Even all those years ago, when I first joined up with my lovely pack of artists, under the rule of Skye and... and him. I felt like I was on top of the world then, and now, two.. or is it three? Years later, I'm stuck home alone, in the same house he gave to me, thinking about him and, what could have been, us.

I guess some things just aren't meant to be. I've always been unlucky; it started the day I was born. I was the reason my mother became ill and died. I was the reason Dusk turned towards the darker area of life. It's probably the reason half my pack thought I was useless. Three or so years later, and I still don't have my co-rank. No worth. Just a pretty sight with a pretty sound.

I'm just their personal bard, and it's all I'll ever be.

Well, no, not everyone's like that. I love my pack. They're my family. Skye and I are best friends now, even if she's busy with her family and running the place. He used to be my closest friend, and besides Skye, I think maybe we still are best friends. He still comes over to see me, to play beautiful music for me, so I can sing to it... but a musical duo is all we'll ever be.

Because he loves her.

He'll never know how I feel about him now. I'm not going to be selfish this time. I won't ruin their relationship for my own petty emotions. I've never seen him so happy. I hear she's expecting their pup sometime soon, and to be honest, I wish them both the best with their new, beloved family.

It still hurts to think that I'll never be able to know what it could've been like. I'll admit that. It's probably why I'm digging out the old guitar the pack gave me for my birthday last year. It's most likely the reason why I'm singing such a sad song tonight, locked up in my bedroom with the windows closed. I know it's why I'm crying. I think maybe it's also why I've spent so much time writing this song... or rather, so little time.

I start to sing, and my voice is foreign to me. Every note, every line, so alien. They call it beautiful, the way it carries in angelic notes and rhymes. They adore my voice, and now, my ability to play guitar. They love to hear me sing, and yet, I'm left to wonder why that is.

I think, personally, that every word I breath is like a hellish note, off-key and centered around regret and angst. I'm an emotional wreck, and it shows in my music these days. Even the pack has noticed. They used to ask me if I was okay. I'd always reply, "I'm just fine, thank you for worrying. Actually, today's so beautiful, how could anyone be upset?" or something like that. Eventually, they tuned down to giving me sad, pity-filled glances on the street. They still listen to my music, and I play whenever requested, but...

Inside, I feel like dying. I used to sing only for him. Whenever he came by with his magical flute, I'd be entranced, and for the first time, the only time, my own voice sounded like what they describe it as; beautiful. Angelic. We had a sort of perfect harmony. He was the music that I sang to, and I, for the longest time, thought I was the voice that carried his music across the land. Seems, though, that I was wrong. Wishful thinking from a hopeless romantic's heart.

In the distance, even as I sing, I swear I can hear his flute, playing that beautiful music I've adored for so long. The first time I heard it, I fell in love. I'm still in love, but not just with that flute and it's beautiful tones. I fell in love with him, and I'm a sucker for punishment, because even after I became sure that he didn't love me in return, I still hold onto the hope that someday, maybe, he'll come knocking at my door.

And still, I sing. For him. For what could have been us. And he'll never hear the truth behind every line. Behind every lyric. He'll never see my face being the mask I wear everyday. And yet, I'll always love him. No matter how much he hurts me, or how many times he breaks my heart.

I really am a sucker for punishment.