Second Choice
Second Choice friends stories

spottedclouds Pansexual They/Them
Autoplay OFF   •   5 months ago
What it's like to never be someones first choice.

Second Choice

I watch online as everyone goes to brunch. Posting smiling pictures bragging of your time together. I also watched as you made the plans in front of me. I didn't sit back and and feel sorry for myself. I asked and tried to include myself when you wouldn't. Your answer told me you didn't want me there.

I never had a steady friend group where no one is left behind. Everyday is a constant fight, as if I need to keep proving to the people around me they want me. That they need me. I don't want to be a people pleaser, I want to make myself happy. I do for the most part.

I remind myself that I am happier alone. I truly do enjoy my own company. Doing what I want and not caring about anyone else's needs or worrying if they're also having fun. I can just be fully me with no worries they won't like what they see. But the times that I tell myself this the most are when I am yet again not invited.

When people think of alone, they think of sadness. When I think of alone i think of all the things I can be when no one is watching. Suddenly all my feelings are valid. I can be excited about my favorite show. I don't have to worry about how i look when i'm laughing. I can feel pure emotions for once.

I am not sure if I am happier alone, I like company. I just hate feeling unwanted to the point where I change myself to fit their standards for a friend. I put on my mask and act like their perfect friend, they confide in me and I help them with their problems. Somehow it's still not enough, I am still not enough to be invited.

I am not a jealous person, I don't care if they hang out with other people. I just wish the people I consider the most I care about in this world would feel the same way back. I call them my friends for a reason but they act as if i'm someone they can talk to if everyone else is busy.

They tell me i'm a great friend when I help them through a problem no one else understands. They tell me i'm a great friend when I spend two hours writing an essay for them so they don't get stressed out. They tell me i'm a great friend when I remember their favorite snack to bring to practice just because it reminded me of them.

Aren't I enough?

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