This is actually an older piece I never got around to uploading... finished mid-November, I'd say. Relatively old in relation to when it was finished and now, as I'm posting it. As always, enjoy, and leave a review if you feel so inclined. Thanks. -R

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Everything in my life comes in threes. Not in an OCD way, but in a "fate" way: three brothers, three best friends, three parents, three hard classes, three easy ones. If it's not three, it's a multiple of three: nine friends, six Oreos, 12 blades of grass in my hand. I noticed this pattern when I was 15.

I've always believed in a superior power. It's not a religious thing, though. But I can't live my life without the ever-present comfort of a higher being, a sort of maternal, infinite protection, existing, if not for real, and at least in my head. I believe this superior is not a human image. That freaks me out, like I’m being watched by a giant, star-flecked eye. It’s a mathematical being, almost paranormal, and it destines everyone to a number. These numbers dictate entire lives, entire lives, and just by knowing someone's number, you can know everything about them, even their personalities. But that's the problem: no one knows their number.

So it's important to observe. You pay attention to someone: how many seconds it takes for them to inhale, how many times they click their mechanical pencils. They don't know it reveals a personal secret about them that's so big, so well-kept, that even they don't know it. Only I know it, their biggest secret, and all because I observe every little thing. I am the most well-informed person in the world. I can decipher and unravel a person's entire life just by counting how many times someone taps their pen. If it's a number over 10, I study the person's mannerisms until I find a suitable multiple.

My beliefs are so uncommon that I know if I told anyone they would cast me sidelong glances and move away, thinking I'm crazy, and who wants to be associated with a nut job? So I keep it under wraps. It is not to undermine my thoughts, or because I do not embrace the fact that they're unconventional, but because I got tired of their sympathetic, "poor crazy girl" looks, and their fake, uninterested questions. It was more trouble than it's worth. People rarely understand anyway. Besides, there are some things that are just better unshared. Numbers are one of those things.

I am a three. I said this already, but it needs repeating, just in case you forgot. This means I am quiet and introverted, a creative soul. I associate with threes, fours, and tens. They are the numbers that understand me. But they do not understand their numbers. When I discovered the power and accuracy of numbers, I tried to explain the concept to my friends. They all thought I was insane, so I just stopped trying. If you can’t convince someone the first time, you’ll never convince them.

There was one person I tried to convince. I met them in a park in winter. It had been a particularly dark day, with sun-blocking, angry gray clouds surrounded the overcast sky and clean snow covered the entire park and froze it over. I was sitting on a frozen pond, using my keys to etch designs into the thick ice when I heard them calling from the banks.

“Hey!” When I turned around, they waved and I waved back. From where I sat at that precise moment, I couldn’t tell their gender, but they were lanky and their smile was clear and wide. They wore an assortment of bright colors, all different colors.

“You are very stylish,” I called back to them. I heard their laugh, and it was distinctly male.

“Thanks,” he called. “Mostly everyone tells me I’m mad!”

That struck a chord. I could relate to this person, this strangely unique boy. The two of us, crazies in the normal world, were waving wildly across a frozen pond, and at that single moment, I had to let him know how similar we were.

“Do you believe in numbers?” I asked him. He didn’t reply, so I elaborated: “That they can be your destiny, I mean.”

He laughed and said, “Are you asking if I’m destined to become a mathematician?”

I was tired of people not understanding. “That God is actually a grand number. Think the ‘infinity’ sign. Do you believe?”

There was a long pause, and then, “I’ll believe anything, I’m so lost.”

“It’s real,” I said, turning back to the ice. “Numbers. They can tell you anything you need to know.”

“Oh?”

“Yup.” I looked back at him. “You’re a five.”

He looked startled. “A what?”

“A five,” I repeated. “You waved exactly five times. You tapped your foot ten times, divided by two is five. You even look like a five. Your family life is good, you like music, you’re rambunctious but you’re hiding something. Fives are complex.” After a pause, I added, “And we wouldn’t be very good friends.”

“Why’s that?”

“Threes and fives annoy each other. I’m too quiet, you’re too loud.”

I heard his bitter laugh. “So you’ve figured out the entire world with a dinky little number system?”

Annoyed, I replied, “Something like that, yeah.”

“This might shock you, but life isn’t that easy. Don’t shove someone into a category. It’s worth your time to get to know them. You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“And what is the first thing about you, then?”

“You could try learning my name.”

I bit my tongue. Suddenly, this person wasn’t worth my time. Then I remembered, threes and fives are incompatible. I was getting angry.

“It’s Darryl,” he called.

I didn’t answer. Instead I returned to carving the ice. He was still there, though. I could sense him. Then I heard his footsteps walking away. I watched him leave through my hair, upset, annoyed, furious that he didn’t understand, just like every other person on the planet. But then he turned around and called, “If life were that easy, it wouldn’t be worth living.” And then he walked away.

I sat there on the ice, reading over and over again what I had written: “GOD IS NUMBERS. GOD IS NUMBERS. GOD IS NUMBERS.” Over and over again, maybe a hundred times, across the ice.

Below it, I wrote, “Life is worth living.”

If life were easy, it wouldn’t be worth living.

He hadn’t understood. I don’t know why I chose to interact with him. I should have told him to go away when I learned that he was a five. Threes and fives have a lot of tension. It was destined from the beginning. God is numbers. God is numbers.

I continued my last sentence.

“Life is worth living, even if it’s easy.”