There is always an empty spot. Every time I come here I can see it. A gap between the others just large enough for one more. It moves occasionally, but it never fails to be there. I used to see that spot and be motivated immediately to action. "That's my spot," I would think. And for days afterwards I would work, stopping at nothing to one day fill it.
The she came. Whether I consciously realized it or not, I let her sidetrack me. She unknowingly and innocently dragged me away from my goal. I stopped coming here. I stopped seeing my spot. I got distracted from everything I had previously hoped for. It was a fantastic distraction at the time, I won't lie. But I had almost forgotten. It was not until things got chaotic and whatever it was between us came gradually and tragically to an end that I returned to the spot.
A million thoughts of despair did cross my mind as I searched for it initially. I was under the firm belief that it had vanished from existence altogether. Then, finally, at the very bottom I did see it. But no longer was it mine. No, instead it taunted me with thoughts I could not control. My feeble mind could, at first, not comprehend them; however, I soon was thoroughly convinced that someone else had laid claim to what suddenly, and with fiery passion, became my spot once more. I slunk to the ground and stared, caring little of who saw. I had abandoned my spot for long enough that one besides myself could call it theirs.
And now the thought strikes me. Before her, I already had begun my work. I have, over this mystery competition, some headway. I now move to pick up where I left off, beat this other who would call my spot their own, and claim it for myself. It will truly be my spot, and this time I won't be letting go.