Being Second

I am tired of being the second choice.

There is no doubt that they love me
but that’s not the same as being first.

I wonder what it would be like
to know I was the first someone thought of
when they wanted to hang out
or received some good news.

Oh, I get to hang out
and I hear the news.

But I imagine that it would be different
to be the first person called.

Always being second makes me wonder:
Is there somewhere they’d rather be?
Would they leave me, if given another choice?
Did they settle, because I am here?

Standing in the line,
waiting to be picked for the game,
no one ever chooses me.
I’m always left until the end,
the one that they have to take
when there is no one left.

When voting on the thing to do,
I get to vote, but does it really count?
Because no one wants to play my game
or go to the place that I recommend.
It leaves me, wondering:
is there something wrong with me,
that I would like these things, when they don’t?

I try to tell myself that this is anxiety,
but it is hard not to listen to a life time of experiences
when the pattern never changes.

I try to imagine,
what it would all be like
to have a best friend
or be that special someone.

Is there even such a thing
as being someone’s first?
Or is this just another myth
that the movies and books created?

So, I sit here, in my small group of friends
and I wonder if I am even wanted here,
knowing that I would never be able to tell
since I am unable to read the room.
And it leaves me feeling lonely
even when I have all this company.

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