Nostalgia

I've always been weird. I will now present one more piece of evidence in my plea to the judge not to convict me as normal.

Ahem. When I was learning to count I assigned the numbers one through ten personalities. And these personalities linger with me as ghosts. Observe:

1 is a stuck-up, self-absorbed dork. Never stops studying, never stops reading, never hears anything you say.

2 is a whiny, dependent girlfriend who hangs on 4 all the time. I hate her.

3 is the giggle of girls passing in the hallway: straight blond hair, purple plaid miniskirts, and pink bubblegum. They go everywhere together. They are the ultimate clique. They always leave everybody out.

4 is basically 2 twice. Did I mention that I don't like 2? 'Nuff said.

5. I love 5. He is awesomely cool. Or she. I'm not really sure.

Nooo, I think 5 is a he. 5 is my favorite number. Don't tell anyone, okay?

6 and 7 have some jealous rivalry going on. They've been fighting for so long you can't really say anymore that one or the other is in the wrong. They both deserve time-out.

8 is the Cool Guy. Everyone has a crush on him. He's the guy who dates everybody casually but doesn't ever have a girlfriend. It's my opinion that all the nice girls won't take him because he dates constantly and faithlessly.

Never mind.

9 is like 5 but better if that's possible. He's like a prophet: he's always relaying 10's messages and trying to keep order in the room. Like a kindergarten teacher. But with a long-suffering sigh and sad smile.

10 is like God. Don't laugh at me. I had a hard, hard time remembering 10. I'd go, 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9...... 10? I think? 10 was like an invisible presence in the sky, someone who was there one day and gone the next and hard to believe in.

I actually told myself stories about these numbers. 9 and 10 were never big characters in them, except one of the smaller numbers might run to them for authority/protection. Geeze, I should abandon novels and go for soap operas, right?