Second chances are found after trying something for the 8th or maybe 48th time. Second chances are not sequential. Second chances are grains of sand, seconds passing by in an hourglass. Second chances are missed or not taken or taken and then later either regretted or blessed or discarded and forgotten. In other words, everything we ever do is always a giant question mark and we have nothing left to do but throw our hands up in the air and declare any cause a lost one.
Don't call me a pessimist, though. Don't get me wrong. In fact, I find nothing but hope in the fact that we are doomed to an uncertainty. I find nothing but motivation to continue when I realize I will never have to choose between what was and what will be. What doesn't exist cannot be chosen. I'm left with what is, which is what is preferred. I use "we" too much, perhaps, but in the end I'm only speaking of (and to) me.
So go ahead and make a list. Write down all the failed loves you've tried. Write down the times you cried without tears and the times you spoke without words. Don't search for a reason. Don't dissect or digest or distinguish. It is enough for you to catch it with a hook. What emerges will immediately want to dive back into the water. Keep it out. Keep it out, lying there on the page, gasping for breath. You owe this to yourself.
I may be a question mark and I may never find that non-sequential second chance. But life isn't logical. Life will happen when we are busy picking out the bait. Nobody will wait for you to come alive, not even yourself.