In response to the Daily Post’s writing prompt: Take a Chance on Me
I once liked a boy. I liked him in that “seeing them everywhere, instantly noticing when they’re in the same room” kind of way. I thought he might like me too, for some inexplicable reason, but I wasn’t quite ready to do anything about it, to shatter the illusion of having a little secret warming the cockles of my heart.
One day, I read one of those Life is Short, Tell Everyone You Love Them Now In Case You Do Not Wake Up Tomorrow viral posts, and I thought, I should tell him I like him and see what happens. So I did.
It didn’t work out. He and I were fundamentally incompatible, and it only took a short time for that to become obvious. We parted ways, with some initial acrimony which faded to indifference.
There’s not much of a moral to this story, except maybe: Taking a chance may or may not work, but it never fails just because you took the chance. Instead, you’re made richer with experience by taking that chance. If it bombs, you can always chuck it out and start something else.
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