You were on a pedestal I could never reach. A beauty unmatched, with porcelain skin and Marilyn curves. Your smile outshone the sun. When you spoke, people listened. When you sang, they were transformed. Countless nights I cried, begging God for a voice like that. I dreamed of having your strength and courage, of one day standing on my own two feet and facing down the tyrants and the bullies; of someone standing in awe of me the way I did of you.
I knew I could never match your brilliance, or your talent, or your charm, but I could get close. Walking the tightrope of your shadow, I felt just enough warmth to be satisfied. I had just enough love, just enough respect, just enough praise.
It had to be enough.
I’d never be special. I’d never be first.
I’d always be good. Never best.