Everyone gravitates to you, every girl you want, every girl who wants you. You barely hung around enough in my life to earn a number, that single separation between Number Four and I. But you’re both the same where it counts and where it hurts — love of climbing, propensity to lead a girl on, even if you didn’t mean to, a painful lack of patience when it comes to weakness I’ve struggled with my whole life.
Goodbye, Number Five. Even if I expected you to one day text me back, I’d never be your escape from boredom again. 
I was entertainment. You were something important. 

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