Hi blog.
So summer's getting pretty hot and unfortunately, I still have to use my brain. I have definitely a lot of things on my mind. I have to finish a few codes, try to figure out something I don't even understand (yeah, this is for work ugh.) and well, a lot more. But I'm going to blog about my title. Second Best.
Second Best.
I was never first. Never ever was I first.
Whether it was about talent, or knowledge, or skills or anything at all I was never the best. There was always someone better than me. They might not have been any better, we might be equal at one point - sometimes they'd have much charm though. Or were they better dressed than me? Probably prettier, too. But sometimes I don't even bother to think that we were equal because I knew my place would always be second best.
I was always a nalang. That's a bisaya word for someone/something you choose instead of the first choice because unfortunately, you can't get it.
But do you know where I always have been a nalang? In love.
People always told me I had a bad taste in men. That I never go for the "pretty boy". That I always end up crushing on people unnoticed. True. Because I have my standards, and they don't involve other girls drooling around my guy. I'm not bashing anyone who's having a huge crush on the campus cutie, that's just my opinion, more appropriately, standards.
I was always a back-up plan.
I don't know why, but I always am. I'm always the second choice. I always wonder why. Probably because someone better blocked the view.
Wait, that's not probably. Maybe that's just it.
It's like watching stars at night. The first one you'd ever notice would be the brightest one. You'd keep an eye on it and appreciate how beautiful it was, not minding the billions of other stars shinning. Sadly, I wasn't Polaris. And I would never be.
Or maybe it was like choosing rocks to skip on a pond or beach, and I was there, just in front of you, a rock for throwing. In a perfect position, ready for throwing. Instead you go look for another rock, not minding the first one. And you do. And you marvel at it, studying it carefully. It was beautiful. And when you finally decide to throw it, it doesn't skip.
So you go look again for me, perfectly placed where you first found it. You pick it up, and study it. But as you do, you imagine the first rock. How it edges were perfect, how the curves were perfect, how it could have been such a throw. But along the way, why wasn't it? So you try to do it again with me. And it wasn't quite half bad. But you see the perfect rock again and you leave me there. Because somehow what you marveled about wasn't about how it many times it was going to skip, but how it was created.
It was like walking down an unknown street. Looking for this specific address. And from the corner the street just a few steps away right in front of you was a police officer who knew it very well. But instead of going to her first, you decide to stop by this really pretty girl and ask her. She points to that direction and you ask her if she wanted to grab coffee sometimes. She nods. And you hang out for a while. But then suddenly she decides to move to Los Angeles which is such a long trip from here. You bid goodbye. And then suddenly you're lost in the same street again. You see no one else but the police officer so you ask her. You hang out for a while and you find out that she's not half that bad after all. But once in a while you get to remember that pretty girl you asked and think about if she's fine. But this police officer isn't half that bad, but she will never be the pretty girl you first fell for.
There are so many beautiful things placed right before your eyes. They might not be the best in everything, but at most times they try to be. You don't know how long they take a bath just for you to admire the smell of their hair. You don't know how much perfume bottles they finished just for you to know how they smell like. You don't know how many nights they had to cry themselves to sleep just to feel better the next day because of how much it breaks their heart. You don't know that behind every smile and laugh and act as if they don't give a fuck, is a broken heart.
You don't know they just try and try to capture your heart and when they finally do, you don't even feel half the same.
I've been here a ton of times. Always the rebound. Always someone who you can just casually talk to when your heart's just been broken. Always that someone who loves you a little bit more than you love her. And it has always been okay.
I'm only like this because I've been her for the longest time. And I keep my walls up before I get hurt again.
But there will always be days where I wish it wasn't this way. Sometimes I wish I was the best. Sometimes I wish I was the pretty rock, or the brightest star or the pretty girl at the side of the road because often times I go unnoticed. Often times, I'm second best.
Maybe that's why I fall for guys who go unnoticed. Because I want them to feel like they're not just ordinary people. They're someone people like me could actually love. Not because they stood out the best, but because their imperfections make them truly more than just what meets the eye.
