I should stop being so ridiculously naive like that one time when I met a boy who bluntly admitted that he was too conceited and full of himself I didn't pay much attention to how true it was, thinking that he just wanted to impress me until it was too late. I got to him first. He became one of the cool kids. I was deserted.

I should stop being so ridiculously naive, believing that boys actually do fall for anything other than a fully made-up face, a heavy, talkative tongue with irrational words and meaningless sentences flooding out of lips, a ****-head with no thoughts of the universe, a statue with the appropriate body parts and long, shiny hair, and deceiving, shallow eyes.

I should stop being so ridiculously naive because for once, I thought, that this other boy who had trouble talking to me might like me back. He second-thought handshakes, hellos, but never eye contact. And when our eyes met, I could've swore he felt it as well. I fumbled with actually speaking to him. I could never get him alone.

I should stop being so ridiculously naive that one time, my best friend was that same guy's best friend and laughed about how we should get married one day since we're the exact opposite. She said I was sweet and calm like an impending storm. She said you were reckless like a hurricane. But oh, if only she knew you were the reason behind my silenced grieving.

(Yet my heart shall do as I command, soon.)

I should stop being so ridiculously naive because I realized that the boys I'm most comfortable with and so close to are the ones I don't write poems about and give much thought to. I should stop writing poems about you. I should be neutral towards you.

I should stop being so ridiculously naive and develop a solid personality and a loud opinion to stick with. I refuse to be a third wheel.

I should stop being so ridiculously naive and find my own voice because no one is going to speak up for me.

I should stop being so ridiculously naive and be thankful for the fact that there is no other me but me.