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.
