Last One Left On the Playground


I often feel like I’m the last one left on the playground.

You know, like how it is during recess or whenever when you line up along the fence and pick teams?

Kinda like that.

There’s a heirarchy in the way we are are picked in life. Little did we know it would closely resemble how it was on the playyard.

Undoubtedly, the all-stars get picked first. Next come the almost all-stars. These are then followed by the friends of the all-stars. Who are just a level above the ones who are mediocre enough to be classified as neither ‘that good’ or ‘that bad’.

As the pickings keep getting slimmer, someone wonders aloud if they really have to pick any more or can they stick with what they’ve got?

The rules of fairness are you pick until there’s no one left or an odd one out.

That’s me.

Somehow or another.

I am forever feeling like odd one out.

The funny thing is you’d think I’d quit showing up to the playground. Surely you’d think I could catch the hint and quit lining up, wouldn’t you?

Yet there’s an underlying determination that drives me to keep at it, time and time again.

There’s something in me that says maybe, one day.

Maybe tomorrow or the next day.

Or the one after that.

Perhaps I won’t be the last one left on the playground.

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