I Can't Handle My Feelings Ugh

HERE'S A WEIRD, FUNNY THOUGHT: FEELINGS SUCK. 

And I'm not just talking about a petty, "he's-kinda-cute" crush. I'm talking all-consuming, years-of-suppressing, blind-siding, I'm-starting-to-feel-pathetic kind of crush. 

18 years later and I'm still stuck in the same situation: never putting myself out there to reveal my true feelings and ending up just silently dying inside. Different person, same situation. Every. Time. My love life might as well be a freaking vacuum cleaner because it sucks. 

Why am I sitting here blogging about it when I can go ahead and profess my undying love? Truth is, I don't know. I'm a wuss, let's leave it at that.

I guess you can say it's my fault for always playing it safe by never taking a leap of faith, but you know what, it's for everybody's good. Why ruin a perfectly good friendship with feelings and potential misunderstandings when you can just play the role of a really good friend in his life and try not to chew glass when someone so much as flirts with him. It's simple, really.

There's this pretty ancient Taylor Swift song called "Invisible" and it's one of those songs that I just listen to and not feel anything because I couldn't quite relate to it. But now it approximately has 66 plays in the past 6 hours and I've cried approximately 6,000 tears (just kidding) (but it was a rough 6 hours).

Long story short, it's another tale of unrequited love -- which is now, also, my life. The fact that my stupid crush was not at all that likely to have a stupid crush made this whole stupid thing a lot easier because I didn't have anything to worry about. And it comes back biting me in the ass. 

Complacency!!!

I don't know how to navigate through these emotions. I'm not even allowed to have these emotions in the first place because I'm no one of significance whatsoever, but biology betrays me once again and my instincts tell me to either cry or eat cookies. So far I've done both.

But the point is: I'm torn between a) shrugging it off and just accepting the fact that okay, he likes somebody else (SOMEONE WHO'S NOT ME), or b) just completely abandoning my feelings.

Plan B is semi-in motion because I've realized that this is ultimately quite pointless. 

It's pointless if I'm never gonna act upon these feelings (unlikely) and it's pointless to wait around and see if he feels the same way about me and confesses before I do (even more unlikely).  

And honestly, this is all starting to feel a lot like high school to me which is bizarre because I'm technically an adult, and adults don't deal with their feelings by quietly pining over someone from a sizeable distance away.

It's fight or flight... and I'm choosing to fly away.

You could say it's the easy way out because it means never having to confront your feelings, but I'd like to say I'm being smart about this. Might take longer than I'm imagining, but still manageable. How hard can it be to get over a cute, smart, funny guy like him who's a complete pain in the ass but is still irresistible? Pffft. Pffffffffft.

And as for my love life: abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

Change

What a cliche but necessary thing to write about this new year. "New year, new me" and all that crap. And while I secretly roll my eyes at those pledges people make to themselves (and dare I say they last shorter than a Kardashian marriage), I like the idea of a fresh start. A clean slate. And every new year, it's an opportunity to "upgrade".

I like change as much as the next guy, sure. Changing the bed sheets, curtains, basically anything for hygienic purposes, but if it's a rather drastic change, like, say, an impulsive haircut, for me it feels like the world has tilted off its axis and rolled towards an all-consuming black hole. Change. Yikes. Not really my thing, but in the interest of full disclosure, I will explain.

Anything that doesn't stomp around familiar territory, my immediate instinct is to cower away and metaphorically (sadly not literally) hop on the next train to Nope Town. I don't exactly welcome change with open arms, in fact, I detest it. 

I've always had a thing for hiding underneath the cloak of familiarity and comfort. I always need a little push (make that a full-on shove) to get me to do something that I normally wouldn't do. For instance, my fear of change is obviously reflected in my hairstyle. Fun fact: I've had the same haircut for the last 10 years, I shit you not. Aside from cutting it once a year (another fun fact: I like haircuts as much as I like terrorism), my hair is basically a "virgin". All it took was one bad trip to the salon a couple of years ago to shatter my faith in hairdressers and make haircuts a traumatic experience. It was a disaster and I've been cutting my own bangs ever since. Not once have I tried to dye my hair before either. Why not try a new hairstyle for a change, you ask? Well, there's not really an undo button for hair, is there? Or an undo button for life while we're at it? My desire for change is often overpowered by this fear, pushing me into the far corners of safety and... boringness.

The point is, the way I feel about my hair is the same way I feel about the other things in my life. Change requires a leap of faith when I'm perfectly fine with just hanging onto my safety harness. Change means losing what you've long been acquainted to without some sort of reassurance.

I'd like to see it as a sign when I read Dash and Lily's Book of Dares over Christmas and completely related to Lily. She wants to embrace danger and shed her Lily Bear image which I'm also trying to work on.

In that case, let me present to you my new year's resolution (which I will take seriously): learn to see change as an opportunity to grow. My comfort zone is ginormous which means I have to take the extra mile to push myself. I will learn to react positively to change; to react more like "Oh that's not what I'm used to but it'll make me grow as a person" and less like "No no nono nonono".

I would list down my other resolutions but this blog post wouldn't end. Truth is, there's a lot of things I'm working on, but part of that is to learn to take things day by day. I mean, I didn't expect myself to be a changed person  the moment I opened my eyes today, but there will be progress. Might be a slow one, might be a quick one.

Thank you, 2014, for being a totally shitty, totally fun year full of ups and downs (more than what I signed up for, really) without which, I will never be who I am right now. The next year has a lot of promise and opportunities and I intend to seize them.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be spending the next three months awkwardly scribbling "2015" on papers.

I don't know if it's the ridiculous amount of free time I suddenly have on my hands, or my laziness to start reading the eBooks I so greedily downloaded, but these past few days I've been spending an alarming amount of time on Elite Daily. Totally fine, just catching up on hate/love-related articles ad nauseam.

So here's the thing: I stumbled upon this particular article that rubbed me the wrong way, to say the least: An Open Letter to The Girl Who Let The Nice Guy Go and my thoughts can't seem to shut up about it.

Yeesh.

Normally I'm not brave enough to share my private thoughts, especially those concerning my perspective on love and relationships and sparks and all that bit because really, what the hell do I know? But while I may lack enough firsthand experience, I'm still no stranger to unrequited love. I've been on both ends and it's not really smooth sailing. 

Long story short, the author explains that at some point in your life, you're going to encounter the "Nice Guy". He's going to be sweet, he's going to call on time, he's going to stick around when you push him away, and when you look up the word "nice" on the dictionary, his picture is going to be there. True, then the author smacks you with her entire point which is do not, under any circumstances, be the unappreciative girl who lets him go for some douchebag to fulfill your fantasy of being said douchebag's Gamechanger and taming the wild beast.

Still true. Partially. I mean, yes, you're bound to encounter the Nice Guy, but guess what, your experience may be relatively different from everyone else's which is totally okay.

A thousand eye rolls later, I still can't seem to emphasize that just because he's a Nice Guy doesn't mean he's the Right Guy.

Don't get me wrong, I completely understand that this kind of guy is ready to hand you the world on a silver platter, but that doesn't mean you owe him anything. Apart from being nothing but honest and grateful for having a person like him show you that kind of love, his kindness does not give you the obligation to love him back. Whether a relationship works or not does not depend solely on his kindness. Sure, it weighs a lot on the hypothetical scale of love, but there are other things and aspects to consider. His passion, his dreams, his perspectives and how he sees the world, (his relationship with your mom??), and the list can go on. 

And this doesn't mean you're "picky", but avoiding having to "settle". This doesn't mean that you're unappreciative either, because a guy who waltzes into your life, ready to be your Ted Mosby is an amazing guy, but he might not exactly be what you need. 

You don't have to feel guilty about letting the Nice Guy go. I once read this quote that stuck to me ever since: "There is a difference between genuinely liking someone and liking the attention they give you." You don't have to confuse those two things. If he really is a genuinely Nice Guy, he's not going to assume that you see him as an inadequate person, but simply just not The One.

Lo and behold -- that, my friend, is my two cents on this whole thing. Always felt the need to actually say it, but never really did, and now that I have, I am one less fedora-tipping guy away from strangling somebody.

Not Your Cliche "Goodbye 2013" Post.... Sort Of

I've been putting off writing lately for reasons I have yet to understand. They're mostly disguised as pathetic excuses like "I have a lot of homework" or "not much interesting things happened anyway" and frankly, I deserve a slap in the face for fearing a blank page and a restless mind and not having enough courage to articulate them into words.

I really don't want to end the year on a weird note, in the context of writing. And I really want to start off the new year with good writing juju. If there's one thing I've learned this year, it's that writing is a muscle and I have to exercise it.

Before 2013 ends, I'd like to say I made good decisions that outweigh the dumb ones on a hypothetical scale. I had my fair share of core-shuddering, soul-cringing events this year that will probably induce awkward cringe attacks in the next 50 years, but I'd like to look back on the past year with complete pride and a nod of my head and think: yep, I made it through another beautiful shitstorm of a year.

Being sixteen and awfully young and being in the constant tug-of-war between responsibilities and freedom, the crushing pressure of being smack dab in the middle of finding who you are and what you're gonna do and where you fit in is always on the verge of cracking me. There were a lot of moments when I gave myself and my future the benefit of the doubt (which was quite unhealthy considering it rattled the cage of my already-fragile faith).

Naturally, I think it's good to question everything. Being young and stubborn, and with lack of actual experiences, I tend to be overly idealistic to the point where I don't consider practicality. This, I fear, might eventually lead me to a series of bad decisions and I told you so's.

But despite second-guessing my instincts and finding my way through the dark, I guess I've been looking at mistakes the wrong way. I've grown to think they're healthy, if anything. They're basically warning shots. Not that I'm saying that this is a noble justification for being stupid and going about life without thinking anything through. I guess what I'm saying is, I could be worse.

I could be doing cocaine, so personally I think my parents have a lot of thanking to do.

Heh. Heh.

All kidding aside, the past year definitely emphasized the brick wall between what is right and wrong, and good or bad. Not completely, but it's a start. I still have a long way to go, but I guess I have to take it one awkward day at a time.

And while there wasn't really anything groundbreaking that happened in 2013, I learned not to beat myself up too much for the could-haves and should-haves and basically everything that was beyond my control. And the sudden realization that life is really just a massive ocean and I'm gonna have to sink or swim and it's not always smooth sailing and I have to roll with the punches, hit me like a punch in the gut.

2013, 2014... they're mere numbers.

Labels of the years, a friendly reminder of the starting points and finishing lines of different chapters.

Whether it's actually New Years Eve or halfway through the year, I'd like to think it's never too late to change anything or feel differently. There are still plenty of mistakes to make and lessons to learn and things to understand and I can't wait.

And lastly, I definitely don't wanna view New Year's Eve as expiration dates to new-found friendships or life lessons or love.

Here's to 2014!

Let me end it with my newly-adapted mantra:

"The more you love your decisions, the less you need others to love them."

Never Gonna Happen

After months of staring at the back of the guy's head with a continuing sigh, I've decided to finally muster up the courage to tell myself what Regina George told Gretchen Weiners: "It's never gonna happen."

It's about time I dropped out of my fantasy. Turns out I've unknowingly been waiting for that Colleen Hoover romance that's obviously not happening any time soon. There's a fine line between being optimistic... and being delusional. Before my brain goes haywire, it's time to break it down to that little voice in my head.

Apart from showing no sign of interest, it was tough to play hard to get... when he's not even "getting". It takes two to tango, but I'm clearly out of my league to even think about pulling off some game he couldn't pick-up... or even bother to play.

I'm just another face in the crowd and I guess that's all I ever will be. No pity party, just pure, unadulterated facts. Sure, the occasional small talks would be worth celebrating, but it would just be too heartbreaking to remind myself it's not a step closer to even start off as friends with a galaxy between us.

And the fact that I've read 3 coming-of-age novels in 2 weeks isn't really healthy. Hitting the brakes on reading YA novels would probably give me the 12 steps backward I drastically need.

The nonexistent interaction is the final nail in the coffin. The iceberg-tundra thing we had going on is obviously ample evidence telling me to knock whatever this is off before it gets humiliating. Pinning it on me is probably the most logical idea, but my coy hello's and awkward smiles is the farthest I could go. I'd always felt like every Hello is a dead giveaway, basically an embarrassing proclamation of love. Putting interest out there made me feel too vulnerable, as if he could see right through me.

And if he did, I wouldn't know what would be worse: if he knows or if he doesn't.

I needed a serious reality check. There's no harm in that. And I'm not gonna mope around about it... maybe a little. Being impaled by the sudden realization was blinding... but it was what I needed.

Reading Between The Lines of What Is and What's Not

It’s been over a week since he texted me saying he missed me. Not only had he shook me up, but it also rattled the cage of our fragile relationship… if there was any.

I don’t know where I stood with him and I never did.

We rarely spoke to each other and when we do, it’s such an awkward interaction to be considered as friendship. On special occasions, he’d tell me he misses me, but that’s it, he just misses me and he never does anything about it. 

The funny thing is, he’s so much like a ghost. He comes around every now and then and just disappears in thin air leaving me hanging. 

I was finally okay, I was doing good without having him crossing my mind on a daily basis. I was finally able to listen to songs without him burning at the back of my mind. And it’s like he does it on purpose, when I’m THIS close to completely letting go, he comes around and ruins everything that took so much time and acceptance.

But the fact that he said he missed me didn't bother me as much as I thought it would. I grew numb and just like my fingers, my heart has calluses that even he can’t get through anymore. He just brought frustration and confusion most of the time as he sends mixed signals. Knowing him, there’s a lot more where that came from.

Sure, the things he says linger in my mind more than I would like to admit, but mostly it’s just because out of curiosity.

What I don’t get is, what does he expect to happen? What does he expect from me?

Was he simply trying to tell me he just misses me and my presence? Or was that a code for something else? 

When he sends the messages, I often wonder what he thinks of. Does he know that it will hit me with as much force as a baseball bat? And what does he get from it? At this point, I’m pretty much convinced that his words are rehearsed and worn out from all of the other girls that’s heard them too. 

And maybe that’s what feels wrong about it, that it doesn’t feel like it belongs to me. Like I share those words with somebody else.

Or maybe he’s just the kind of guy that does that for fun. “OH MAN, JUST TALKED TO MY EX TOTALLY TRICKED HER INTO THINKING THAT I STILL GIVE A SHIT ABOUT HER LOL #ThrowbackThursday”

Because I am and possibly forever will be a pussy, I can never muster the courage to directly ask what he wants to happen. 

I never learn.

With unmeant words come heartache. 

The things he says are as about as confusing as Trigonometry, but I’ll have to start learning how to read between the lines of what actually is and what’s not. Or maybe not even bother to read them at all and train my reflexes to immediately push out any thought of him or any emotional attachments.

Sometimes, as much as you want to be with someone, you have to consider other things too. In my case,

• He does not give a fuck
• He will never give a fuck
• He toys with my emotions
• He is frustrating
• He is an undeserving little shit

So there we have it.

In conclusion, this problem has been ages ago. And frankly, I’ve come to the point where “The Girl Who Will Be Waiting Forever” will no longer take another second of this fuckery. Into the trash bin you go, feelings.

And for what it’s worth, nobody deserves to be someone’s past time.

Television-Induced Desire for... Romance

I have to admit, I’ve watched a number of American television series for the last 2 years because it’s only been recently that I found them interesting. Well, maybe because 2 years ago I was 13, but that’s not entirely the point. Watching too much television in an unhealthy continuous marathon lead me to the realization to one of the missing aspects of a normal teenager’s life…. a love interest.

Of course, I did have one, one that I regret every time I think of it which is probably every minute, but that didn’t count. It wasn’t nearly as magical as I hoped it would be, but I couldn’t blame the boy. We were young and it was an act of impulse that none of us ever really thought of. And by that, I mean the consequences of having a first boyfriend behind your parents’ back. I couldn’t live with the guilt because it was slowly devouring me alive so I decided to end it. Not that I regret it.

Anyway, from the series and movies I’ve watched, I’ve learned it wasn’t hard to find the guy. He could just bump into you out of the blue and boom, the next thing you know, you’re lips are brushing against each other while standing on the porch. Or he had always been around you, waiting for a signal from you to see if you sense how he feels about you. That is, if you’re lucky enough to have a decent guy best friend, which in my case, I wasn’t.

There wasn’t much luck around me and truthfully, that’s always the issue because that’s where it starts. No one’s ever really looked at me for the first time with a sort of glow in his eyes and thought that I was the one. No one’s really considered me, at least not the first choice. No one has looked at me the way I see people look at each other in movies, like they could tell each other a story through their eyes that only they could understand.

I wanted that.

And I don’t where to begin. I could list down several things that are probably hindering with the fact that I don’t have a love interest. First, there’s my complete lack of allure. I’m not quite striking nor was I the cute, petite girl.

I was sailing in the middle, barely noticed. You’ll hardly look over your shoulder when I pass by. No head turner whatsoever. Second, there’s my humor that not everyone gets. Sometimes, I don’t get it myself, but most of the time I think I’m damn funny. I crack myself up most of time. But I can’t tell if I should be proud of that or worried. Third, is pretty much connected to the second. I’m painfully aware that I’m an odd person. I don’t appreciate what everybody does and vice versa. Fourth, I assume that I tend to intimidate guys from where I am. They seem to back off, some of them too uncomfortable to even say hello to me. It’s not as if I’m implying that I’m out of their league, but it’s that they’re acting like it.

I have this crazy thought that no teenage experience is complete without the luxury of calling someone your “boyfriend” or “girlfriend"; without having that one perfect kiss that makes your heart race and your toes curl; without sharing this look with someone special that makes you want to melt; without being able to smile to yourself just because… you know he’s yours and you’re his.

No matter how cliche it sounds, everyone dreams of it one way or another. I may not admit it out loud, but I desire these. I’m probably not eager to have a boyfriend, but I yearn for the feelings of having one. Those butterflies in your tummy, the smiles you can’t suppress when he’s around - a few of those perks of having a special someone is pleasing.

As much as I say I want one, I don’t wanna rush into things. Because if I ever do feel these things, I want to be sure that I share it with the right person. And I probably may never know if he’s really the one, but I guess that’s where your heart does its job. I want to take the matter slowly, taking baby steps, just to make sure everything was going the way it was supposed to be.

If there’s one thing I learned in TV series, it’s that the right person will always be able to wait… no matter how long it will be. I just hope for my sake that whoever this guy will be is willing enough to go through this.

So there you have it, the effects of watching too much American television and the delusions it brings me sometimes. Maybe I wasn’t deluded. Maybe it’s been at the back of my mind all along, but I never got the chance to ponder it until now. Rest assured, the moment these feelings kick in, I would just go with my instincts and trust that I’ve watched enough soap operas to get me through whatever love may throw me.