I think that even if I lowered my standards, I'd still be alone.

It's not my high expectations, my choosy nature that intimidates guys. I'm alone because of me, of who I am. Somehow undesirable.

I've heard it all before - "never find your value in how men treat you," "don't give up on standards that mean the most to you," "you're worth it." It all repeats in the back of my head, losing a bit of it's gravity with every revolution.

I know I have flaws. I'd have to be dim to overlook them. And I have high, impossibly high standards.

Maybe I'm not budging on either of those because I like my own misery. I like to torture myself, saying, if only he were better, if only I were better.

I've set myself so low and the bar so high, daring a boy to take the chance with such small victory in his success. The championship game of his life, and in the end, everyone asking, "that's all he gained?"

Falling in love is my first mistake.