Five’s an Asshole

Some people seem to believe that three's the lucky number of the single-digit bunch, but I? I disagree. I think that five's the real clock cruncher, and here's why. Ever been at a dead end before? I'm not talking some metaphoric "I-don't-know-what-to-do-with-my-life-right-now" dead end, but a real physical dead end. Well, I have and excuse the cliché psychological outlook, but it sucked, and the very reason why I felt so down about bucking up at a dead end when I could've just simply turned around and found another way, got me thinking which lead me to my theory. So, five's my dead end. We commonly associate the number three with a limitation. Whether it's 'Third time's a charm!", or "You get three wishes, and three wishes only', three is where we set our eyes to, and so little numbers after just get forgotten. But five to me is important, because when we reach five, we realize that we've gone two too many over our limitations. We realize that we've been taken for granted, and so we gather and remove ourselves from the situation which brought us to five in the first place. I had a crush on the same kid for five years, and throughout those five years, I would let him treat me however he pleased. I lost sense of who I was, and so I was just his. By the fifth year coming, he got a girlfriend and I had gone through this revelation that was so shocking and surprising, but at the same time eye opening. I had realized how just plain stupid I looked chasing after this guy, and letting him walk over me for five years who was now in a relationship and still referring to me as just his "friend." The fifth year brought on a cruel revelation, so much so it felt like a physical boundary. But without that dead end, I would've still been kissing at the kid's feet looking like a complete idiot. So, five's an asshole for letting it get that far, but was also important because it served as a reminder that three is the damn limit, and hell would freeze over before I forget that. So, don't forget your five, because then you'd end up like me— Kissing the feet that in turn would walk all over you.

- Xara B. Williams