To the four reminders of my infatuation phase,
What would have happened if I hadn’t moved on? Clearly, you can see that I don’t think about the lot of you much anymore. I am not as prone to hurt as I was before with the four of you where I was only filled with answers of rejection and moments that misled me. But what would have gone on had I forced myself to hold onto any of the four of you? Would it have been better for me to try and see if one of you would work out with me? But in the first place, you all never found me beyond the friendship line. You always saw me as an acquaintance or a dear friend you would rather keep for a rainy day. Fast forward three years after all this happened, where are we?
It would have been more painful, firstly, if I had. You all knew what I had been going through: my feelings and emotion were burgeoning, and I just toss around supposedly committal words like I love you or I totally am into you and I get feeble head shakes and soothing, supposedly comforting words “Can we be friends?” And clearly, I was pained by this because the thing I hate most of all is rejection. That kind of fear keeps me from even trying to stand for what I feel for. And well, feeling it live hurts even more than telling the person online. And the terrible thing is, you would remember. We would never bring it up, but you would remember.
Number Four is the bane of all jokes here. He never got the committal toss I gave the three of you. He was the rebound crush to my Number Three (also known as the biggest mistake of all) and someone I was trying to get over. Also, he was trying to help me push down unresolved feelings for Number Two (the one I held onto the longest aside from Number One). Number Two was the perfect guy but alas, he probably thought I wasn’t at the same level I put him in. Sorry seems to be the hardest word. You’re totally right. It is, because as apologetic as it sounds, pity sounds more terrible if you’ve done something out of sheer bravery and you are plummeted to hell and back with a kind and coaxing face. “Sorry, I’m not into you.”
You have all hardened my heart. I can never like a person and be able to let my guard down without the person I like having this gut feeling that he would triumph in the end and tear my heart apart for all the world to see. “Spectate, you lot, at the latest conquest I have. She claims to feel things for me that I don’t feel in the least for her. What a joke. What a laughing stock.” I harden my heart only to those who I feel will move past the barrier and slay it. I still am pure of heart but to those who have touched me in ways only miracles can, and to the people I have been with for the longest, longest time.
I’m still learning. We never stop learning, my friends. What has happened to you all, I ask fervently? Are you all moving on like I have, or you’re stuck in your glory days like the way I found you? Do you still remember the moments I had with you, albeit not so tender? It worries me to note that you have all been committal tossers like me… well, not really. No. I don’t care. I partly blame you for my becoming a cynic. Cynicism for me protects me from douchebags like you, and the cling wrap Number Fours. I can never bring myself to find the perfect guy unless he fits my standards because I once found a little bit of perfect in all of you and where has that led me? 97% wrong. You only had 3% perfect, and even that was decreasing as we speak.
So I do hope you’ve found the 100% perfect girls. I know I won’t find the 100% guy (or the Mosby) in a long time, but who’s counting the seconds? I’ve realized life is too short to hold on to douchebags like you. But you’ll always be a number to me. It may not help so much with identity but hey, you were all once meaningful numbers to me: counting the moments we had, adding the good, subtracting the bad, multiplying the hurt, and dividing us into nonsensical separations. We were all really never together. I just thought we could have had a chance.