There is significant evidence that shows I still haven’t learned my lesson.

when i say i’m not good in math,
i mean to say i keep my 
notebook open,
pen in hand, 
and eyes glued to the nape of
your neck 
when i say statistically, 
i am highly likely to never understand that
correlation does not mean causation,
i mean to say i observe my variables,
like how our gazes meet across the room,
like how your shoulder grazes mine,
like how in every lecture we’re pulled 
closer and closer;
i determine that curiosity must be
the reason and therefore the cause
when i say i never learn my lesson,
i mean to say that the probability is high;
the distribution of how many times
my heart has been led and abandoned
is negatively skewed;
an overachiever in everything,
my foolishness ranks in the 95th percentile
among the scores of individuals
who continue to believe even
after being proven wrong;
and though i know the variability is high,
i trust that a larger sample will reduce it
into a standard deviation that is more reliable,
so i patiently count your every 
gaze, touch, attendance 
in the hopes that my sample
represents how i want you to feel

so, when i say the probability of you
ever liking me back is low,
i mean to say that i hope at some point,
you turn your head back,
and change the odds

Process

This piece was a product of both procrastination and my hatred for math. The idea for this love poem came up when I was studying for my statistics midterm. Having decided that staring at a screen of numbers wouldn’t magically make me understand what they mean, my mind drifted off, and I reflected on unrequited love and how some people, myself included, continued to love those who would never love them back. Using statistical concepts that were still fresh in my mind, I wrote this poem about a girl who never learns her lesson and continues to hope that someday, her feelings will be returned.