Would you choose me in a room full of everyone you have ever met? I want to say I would, but my soul knows better than to believe I'll ever be the first choice. Even if you're my first choice I won't even be an afterthought in a room like that. So would I choose you? My brain screams no, but the whisper of hope from the part of me I lost so many years ago begs me like I did an eternity ago. Crying to be seen in the sea of stories. I try my best to be known, I'm afraid of becoming the book in a library that gathers dust, but the staff that leaves me out of pity. I want to be gifted and love like a childs stuff that they keep through the years, passing it to their loved one. The one full of so many memories that they can't possibly have any more but they continue to love it and share their own memories. I want to be the person they think about when people speak of me. I want to be remembered. Not for just the things I gave. I want to be remembered from the memories I shared. So yes. Would I choose you in a room full of every person I have met? Yes. and some day, I hope to be loved the way I love. The way I need to be loved. But perhaps, that reality will be left on the shelf, and my hope is the librarians. But some day, somehow, in some world. I hope that in that room, you and I will find each other together. And fill the once dreaded room with memories that would make me want to return. Because of the small fragment of a child I have, I dream that I will find a soulmate. Who loves, not lies. So as I lay in bed at night, making lies about reality, that you will make them true. The moon needs the sun to shine, and I need you, your love. Happiness leaking from our souls