My favourite loser
is me—
the one who tries
to make sure
no one feels left out.
I pull chairs closer,
save seats in conversations,
notice the quiet ones
standing at the edges
the way I always do.
I learn everyone’s stories,
laugh at jokes
I don’t fully understand,
stay a little longer
so someone else
doesn’t feel alone.
And somehow,
in the middle of all that trying,
I become invisible.
The circle closes
just a little too tight,
names are called
and mine is missed,
plans are made
in voices that soften
when I walk near.
In the end,
the one who kept
everyone included
is the one
who gets excluded.
And I smile—
like it doesn’t hurt,
like I’m used to it,
like losing quietly
is something
I’ve learned to do well.