[ WP ] You 're the most 'bitter ' in your circle , they said because you constantly mock and make fun of your lovelorn friends and their ( beautiful ) love lives . You think you 're not .

God damn Sarah is updating her Instagram again with dozens of pictures of the flowers Jack gave her to congratulate her graduating law school. Jack, the star pediatrician in the district who could heal children with just a smile. What Jack does n't know because he was never her friend in high school was that Sarah puked into the punch bowl in prom. Not exactly a romantic image, huh, Jack? 
 
 Then there's Mister I'm-Perfect-and-My-Life-Is-Perfect Christopher who just loves to rub it in people's faces that he's the happiest married man on the planet. Chris has a jaw and body that could only be matched by his husband Nathan. They got matching tattoos for reaching the summit of Kilimanjaro together and adopted 2.5 kids and half a dog. My only comfort is that Nathan has a crooked nose and limp. From serving in Afghanistan. 
 
 And Rachel, oh Rachel. I thought she was going to be in the always solo train with me for the whole ride, but no, she got off a stop called `` Norwegian Reggae Club''. I know the world has nearly seven billion people, but there could only be a handful who even know of the genre, let alone be enthusiastic enough to start a club in some artsy-fartsy cafe that serves cruelty free coffee and gives away free meals for the homeless in which Rachel could find love. 
 
 I'm not bitter. No really, I'm not. I'm not! 
 
 A lot of people think that I scowl and mock my positively diabetes-inducing friends because I've never felt love and would n't understand it. 
 
 They do n't know my story, and I do n't mean that in the edgy Marilyn Manson-quoting, self-help-book-consuming way. 
 
 I knew someone. They laughed at everything like every exhalation would be their last; they laughed so deeply in such a way that it caught my soul and made it lighter. They held me as if I were an idol, every touch leaving prayer and longing on my starved skin. They smiled at me and all I would think of is how the sun left glitter on water as it set, the reflection calling cards that said, `` Look at me, notice me before I go away!'' 
 
 Afternoon naps. Whispered poems. Stargazing, hushed dreams shared between each other as if just articulating them would make them come true. Indulgent midnight cakes. Dancing, spinning so that the world was just a blur, just them and I. The future. The past. `` Promise me...'' 
 
 I-love-you's said and unsaid. 
 
 I know my friends, and I know what love is like. But one day, the roses will wilt and the music will stop, and they'll wonder if they'll ever live like that ever again, without the disgust, fear, and mistakes of everyday life. They'll wonder, and nobody will be there to answer them.
