His necklace is now in the memory box cause that's all he is now.
A memory.
I never wore it cause I was "his", I wore it because it gave me hope.
A glimpse of how someone could actually care about me.
A reminder that someone was thankful for me.
A reminder that now stings too much to wear around my neck.
I'm just an option.
Not option 1 or 4.
More like 47.
Just an option.
That is no one's selection.
People go through phases of thinking they want option 47, but then they always find option 48 and she's always better.
I'm just a phase.
A number.
A face.
Not me.
And why would anyone ever settle for option 47 when there's 100 others just like me.
But less depressed.
More fun to be around.
Prettier smile.
More adventurous and witty.
And smart enough to get into BYU.
I've been in so many reject piles.
And I've just been added to another one.
Sealed with a big fat "NO".
If anyone wants to search through the garbage and find option 47, go for it.
Cause she's tired of crawling through the darkness to get back out.
