There’s a version of me that got chosen. I hate her a little.
She smiles easier. She knows just the right words to say and when to stop talking. I see her in the corner of my mind, always. But she probably doesn’t see me. She doesn’t know what it’s like to be passed over.
But perhaps she’s earned that. I probably haven’t. If only I were quieter, louder, prettier, faster—someone would pick me. She reads the books I never bought. She says the things I was too scared to say. And sometimes, I think she’s looking at me through the mirror, disappointed.
Or maybe she’s just a figment of my imagination. A way to cope with not being chosen.
It’s strange how you can feel invisible in a room full of people who know your name. People who already have best friends. People with first, second, third choices lined up. So where does that leave you? Somewhere in the background, maybe. Not the first call. Not the “emergency contact”. Just the person they’ll turn to when the people they really want aren’t available.
If you’re in that place, it’s okay to spiral a little. Let yourself fall apart. That kind of discomfort isn’t fun, but it teaches you things nothing else can. You won’t know what kind of impact you can survive until you let yourself hit the ground and see if you can stand back up. Most of the time, you will.
It’s easy to start bending yourself around what other people need—to make their priorities your own without even realizing it. But if they aren’t seeing you, you can’t just stop existing. You still have to show up for yourself, even when no one else is really looking. That doesn’t mean you stop caring. You can still be present. Still love deeply. Still be someone’s safety net. But you’re allowed to need one, too.
You don’t have to explain that empty feeling when you’re left out. That frustration when you weren’t invited. You can just feel it. Let it sit with you. Then, when you’re ready, carry it with you and keep going. You can’t fix every broken part of yourself instantly. Sometimes, you have to take it with you, which isn’t always a bad thing.
You don’t need to be “that girl”—the one who’s always at the center, always chosen first, always perfect. She’s got her own mess, I promise. And perfection doesn’t guarantee peace.
Some days you’ll feel like the star. Burning bright, impossible to ignore. Other days, you’ll feel like the sky holding everyone else up. Quiet, overlooked. Still needed.
Both matter. Both are enough.
i'm on my shark week & almost bawled HELP ; lovely piece <3
This is so so beautiful!!