Second Best

By: Megan

Choices.

Decisions that are made every day.

They affect others despite our knowledge of it.

I am always a second choice.

No one likes me good enough to be first, but I am not hated so much so that I am not an option.

I think I would rather not be an option.

It would hurt a lot less.

To think that I could have been first, but I am not good enough or important enough hurts.

My spirit is compressed into a body bag at the thought of being second.

People come to me when their first choice did not work out.

I don't want to be somebody's second.

I want to be their first.

I want to be the first person that pops into their head.

But I am not.

I am the secondhand option.

Being passed down from one to the next, 

like I am on an assembly line in a factory.

Maybe I should be okay with being second.

But I am not.

My heart yearns to be something more than a last-minute idea.

My soul decomposes when I think that someone else is my first choice,

and I am merely a second.

Maybe I am exaggerating.

It was not always this way.

Once upon a time, someone did chose me first.

It was the best feeling in the world.

And then they found out it is not fun choosing me.

SO in turn, they destroyed my entity for someone who was better.

So maybe being the second choice isn't so bad.

But I would rather not be an option.

I would never get my hopes up,

Or be crushed by a never-ending hurricane.

Maybe I would enjoy not being a choice because I would have no comprehension of what it feels like.

But man, being second.

Being second is the biggest stab in the back I've ever had.