A White Crayon

Two of my roommates have been talking in the kitchen for hours. 

Relationship stuff.

We've been here at college for the same amount of time, but both of them are leaps and bounds ahead of me in the social world.

One has a boyfriend and they've had their first kiss.

The other attracts handsome and talented musicians. Plural. 

But me, 

Usually I'm ok with this. 

But every now and then I get sick of it.

Just once, I want to be the girl a guy has a crush on.

Just once, I want to be that girl who walks into the room and brightens it.

Just once, I want someone to stay up late, thinking of me.

Just once, I want to be the one who gets asked on dates.

Just once, I want to be the one that makes him lose his train of thought.

Just once.

I'm sick of being the white crayon.

I look across the cardboard crayola box and feel totally alone.

 Everybody chooses the red crayon.

And when she gets used up, you can still chose the "Wild Strawberry" and "Scarlet" shades which are almost the same. 

Blue is a favorite, too. 

And there are a lot, just like her.

Red and blue have a lot of fun. 

But sometimes they get hurt.

They get worn down from use, and are returned to the box, blunted and broken.

The paper label is ripped or removed.

And you don't know what shade they are anymore.

Just red-ish. Blue-ish

The box came with 96 shades.

But where have they gone?

Missing, broken, lost. Their unique identity removed from the mix.
If a kid needs a red crayon and can't find the "true red," any shade will do.

And the white crayon waits. 

Her tip is untouched. Her label: crisp and clean.

Her color is pure, unmixed, and unique.

And some day she will be needed. 

No other color will do. No substitutions can be made...

Not when the paper is black.

And when that white crayon meets the black paper they will know that the wait was worth it.

All that time on the shelf, leading to this moment, was well spent. 

Because these two are perfectly matched.

And now, clean and whole, they are ready to commit to each other...

and make something beautiful.

It's the kind of thing that only happens "just once."
And it's the best thing there is.

I'm just holding out for some really nice black paper.