I have a tendency to always want to be the one.
The one he thinks of right before he goes to bed at night. The one he texts as soon as he gets up in the morning. And of course the one on his mind in between it all.
The one he actually brings around his friends. The one he introduces to his mom. The one his co-workers know. The one his homegirls want around, and the one his boys think is good for him.
The one that makes him laugh like he’s never laughed before. The one he feels comfortable around. And the only one he only makes silly faces for. The one that understands him. The one that makes his eyes roll to the back of his head. The one that fits perfectly in his arms. The one that knows exactly what he needs and when he needs it.
I want to be the one he cries to. The one he shares his dreams and even his fears with. The one he trusts. The one he respects. The one he would never hurt. The one he would try for. The one he would do for. The one that will always be more than enough. The one for HIM. The one he can’t imagine life without.
The problem with this, is I always want to be the one. For everyone. But if I was the one for everyone, then surely there would be no such thing as “The One”.