I'm sure that people get tired of me talking about falling in love. I've written plenty of blogs about it. But for some reason, I just can't pull my mind away from the idea of finding someone out there who is right for me. Why can't I seem to concentrate on anything else?
I go through periods like this every now and then. For awhile, everything is fine and grand and life is good. I'm happy and bright-eyed and smiling. Who needs a man to be happy? And then, somewhere out of the blue, I just start thinking about how lonely I am. Don't get me wrong, I have some of the greatest friends in the world, and they're always around to keep me company. I love them to death. But I think that there's a void inside of me; something that can only be filled by knowing I have the love and devotion of someone who needs a person like me to feel complete. Maybe that's just it. Maybe I don't feel like a complete person. Something is missing.
When certain objects that I'm fond of actually go missing, I can ignore the fact that they're gone for awhile. I can last without them. I don't need material items to be happy, right? But after a certain amount of time, I think about whatever it is that I've lost, and I miss it terribly. This usually causes me to go berserk finding it, because something inside me just snaps. And after much searching, if I still haven't located it, I just give up and forget about it again for another period of time. I think that a situation like this can also happen emotionally, where even though I'm surrounded by people who love me, I know that there's a greater happiness out there, and it's only when I remind myself of its absence that I get stuck dwelling on where it could possibly be. I've felt that kind of happiness before, and when you realize that there is something beyond your ignorance that makes you feel better than if you had not known it was there in the first place, there is suddenly a need to have it. A thirst, if you will. For example, if your parents banned you from eating candy, and then at the age of 18, you moved out and ate your first candy bar, how many would you eat on a daily basis after that? Probably an unhealthy amount if you really liked the taste.
I remember the first time I really fell head over heels. There was this guy in my 6th hour my freshman year of high school, and I thought he was the cutest, funniest guy ever. I never talked to him, but I always admired him in class. I fell in love with the way his eyes would smile when he grinned, and how he got along with everyone. I admired how spontaneous he was, and how sometimes he would break out in random song while the entire room was quiet. He seemed great. And I made the mistake of letting him know I liked him. After that, I couldn't seem to contain myself. I tried way too hard to get to know him and to talk to him. I would go to the movie theater with my friend every Friday, especially when there was a popular movie showing, hoping that he would be there (and he was a few times). I remember how excited I'd get whenever he'd say a simple hello or when he would give me a head nod. My heart rate would speed up if he sat anywhere near me on the bus rides to and from school. At the time, I thought that it was the best thing in the world. The air tasted sweeter, the sun shined brighter, and I was always looking forward to waking up for school because there was someone worth waking up for. And I wish that someone could have been there to slap me across the face and call me an idiot, because I knew he didn't feel the same way, but I did a good job at convincing myself that he did.
Things went downhill very fast. He played with my emotions for awhile before he stopped talking to me altogether, and then I grew very bitter. I was bitter because I felt like I had wasted time fawning over him. I was bitter because as much as I wanted to hate his guts, I still cared for him. And I hated that I still felt very devoted to him when I knew that he didn't give a rat's ass about me. I was angry about even allowing myself to become infatuated with the person I thought he was. So for the remainder of my high school years, I fought my feelings. I began forcing myself to stay away from him, especially if I knew certain places where he'd be during the day. I'd take the longer routes to class. I'd sit with my back to him if we were in the same room. And if I saw him near or leaning on my locker in the hall, I'd turn around, walk around the corner, and wait for him to leave. My old habits were difficult to break, but by the first quarter of my senior year, I was finally able to let go.
Every now and then I think back to those memories, and one thing that I can never seem to get over is how easy it was for me to close my eyes and fall asleep at night thinking about him, but by the beginning of junior year, thinking about him was what kept me awake. I think that when you truly love someone, the thought of them shouldn't keep you up at night. It was such a weird transition, and when I realized that thinking about him was preventing me from catching my Z's, I finally accepted the fact that I couldn't deal with it anymore. I think that was when I began closing myself up, and suddenly, loving someone and caring for someone on such a level was a frightening and dangerous thing. It was a rude awakening to be aware of how much vulnerability I had allowed myself, and it didn't just hurt me emotionally. It hurt me physically. Some nights my chest would tighten, and my heart would literally ache. I'd find it hard to go to sleep without acknowledging how badly I was hurting, and the worst part of it was that I did it to myself.
Still, I'm never going to be able to shake off just how great loving someone felt. Memories of my happiness with him are very distant, but I know they're there. I had written countless poems and songs about how great he made me feel, and when I read over those pieces, I felt this overwhelming urge to smile. My heart would flutter, and I'd close my eyes and allow the happiness to flood over me. Love coursed through my veins, and when I'd get done reading, I'd be on this sort of high. But the pieces transitioned from my happiness to my decline, and after reading the poems and songs where I felt confused or upset, the happy pieces would make me feel very depressed because I realized I had been in love with someone I didn't even know. I felt like I had fallen for a stranger who only revealed his true colors after it was too late for me to save myself. So, last summer, I took a folder and put every written piece about him inside of it. Then I went outside and burned it. All of it. It wasn't healthy to keep it anymore, and I had to move on. As I watched the folder burn, it began to curl into the shape of a flower before falling to ash, and I felt relieved. I had bloomed from this experience, and I was stronger now.
Ever since last summer, I've guarded myself more than I ever have. I try my best not to allow my heart to fall for anyone, and although I admire guys from afar, a red flag always rises in my head, as if saying you know what happened last time. Plus, just by looking at them, I know that I don't have a chance. I've suppressed a lot of my feelings in fear of hurting myself again, and when I start becoming fond of a guy, I always try to shake it off and forget about it. Sometimes it's hard to focus on just staying friends and not becoming charmed by whoever it is, but in the long run, I find it to be easier. However, there's still a part of me that hurts because I feel empty. Why? Like I said earlier, there's a greater happiness out there. I know there is, and I want it. We all want things that make us smile, or that entertain us and keep us pleased. But it doesn't mean we're ever going to get it.
I have recently admitted to myself that I am crushing on a guy. But I remind myself that that's all it is. A simple girl crush. And I honestly don't plan on trying to take it beyond that point. The guy who I'm crushing on probably has tons of other girls fawning over him anyway, and I'm not willing to drive him away or give him any reason to. I'm too fond of him to do that, and I like his energy levels. Although I'd love to tell myself that he secretly likes me too, I know it's not the case considering we hardly talk. I think that when you like someone, you often exaggerate everything that they say or do. There's some secret meaning or feeling behind a simple hello, or a "how are you?" And even though that person may take a little time to stop and talk to you or to ask you something, it isn't code for anything. It's called being friendly. Don't over-think it. That's what I always remind myself, and it's saved me from a lot of disasters already. It's hard for me to not over-think considering the fact that writers often enjoy putting a lot of special meaning behind simple words or phrases. But it's something that I'm learning how to do.
Sometimes I may be smitten, or shy, and I might even bat my eyelashes a few times and smile because I just can't help but feel charmed by you. But don't count on me trying to do something with that admiration. The way I see it, unless I know that something is there, I'm not going to try and build something out of nothing.
Yeah, I like a guy. I admit it. But I just can't trust that it'll turn into anything. I'm running short on hope, and I'd rather keep the little bit of what I have of it for something that might actually have a chance of happening for me.
I gotta shake this feeling. I feel myself falling.
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