From the beginning, I already knew, that it wasn't going to be me.
I fell for you. Over and over. Repeatedly, I let you hurt me and come back. For so long, I made these excuses in my mind that made me believe that I meant more to you than I probably ever did. I vividly remember the days when you left and I would spend hours crying. My chest was heaving with the pain that came with being the second choice once again. I’ve spent years instinctively looking for any remnants of you. Hoping that one day you would simply realize everything that you did wrong. But sadly, I found myself wishing for things that wouldn't happen. I fell into that familiar second choice again. Maybe it’s my fault for letting you, for always sitting within your peripheral vision and being someone you could run back to. Maybe it’s my fault for not standing up for myself sooner. I spent so much time wondering why I was never good enough to be that first choice. Never good enough to be the one you felt you needed. As I watch you search for something you’re looking for, I silently sit back here holding my tongue while I try not to tell you that it’s me. But maybe you don't feel the same and it’s easy for me to say that I’m not a second choice. And yet, every time you come back, I find myself falling all over again. Knowing within me that I will always be the backup plan. I always go in with a strong will and a solid wall around me and I always come out with a broken heart. Maybe that’s my life, my destiny as some would call it, to always be waiting for you to choose me first. Maybe one day I’ll wake up and realize how much of a first choice I truly am and finally let you go. Until then I’ll stand here feeling much like the someone who’s always chosen last because maybe I am, after all, just a second choice.