Lord, grant that I might not so much seek to be loved as to love. – Francis of Assisi
It’s a strange thing to admit to yourself that you like another person. Because up until that very moment, that other person was just a person. Granted, they were on the radar, but not this giant red blip that you can’t not look at or think about. They were just there.
And then you admit to yourself that “hey, they’re not so bad” and suddenly they’re all you want to think about and the only person you want to see.
It’s creepy when you write it out.
I’m not really one to admit feelings because feelings get in the way. When they’re good, they’re great, but when they hurt, they kill. Who wants to experience that, over and over and over? And I mean, I do have them but I internalize them and just deal with them.
Essentially that’s been my entire life, even with the boyfriends I’ve had. They knew I liked them and so it was easy for me to talk to them about feelings but outside of that it was just embarrassing and awkward to admit some sort of emotional instability. And it definitely had an effect on every single friendly relationship I’ve had and still have. My friends now? They get it. And I appreciate it more than they will ever know.
Over the process of my father dying and just generally being hurt and disappointed by people, my process of feeling things sort of just went away and I decided numbness was the way to go. If I didn’t acknowledge exactly how angry or happy I was then everything was at an even playing field and nothing would ever suck again. This past year it dawned on me that that was stupid and that I should change. And lo-and-behold, here I am, all feelings-y and sensitive on this blog. It’s a good outlet, for sure. Just I’m still not comfortable with it.
So where is this blog post going? Well I guess I fucking caught feelings. And now my daily dilemmas are “do I make an excuse and go see him?” or “is this too many times in a week to show up” or “what if I see him around town” or “I wonder would that would be like” or “was he just being nice or did he actually mean that”. THAT’S my life right now. Like… the fuck?
I feel like a twelve year old. It’s stupid.
I’m tempted to scrap this entire blog post, but I won’t just because it’s good to write these sorts of things down. Slowly being able to admit feelings to myself, and then publicly (via a not very followed blog lol) are good stepping stones to future communications.
So here I am, world. All weird and gooey and I feel gross about it but well, I caught feelings.
And I hate it.