maybe it’s a sign?

he said she couldn’t make it today so he didn’t go, and i’m wondering if this is a sign. he didn’t tell her today like i thought he would, and my heart didn’t break like i thought it would. i’m wondering that maybe this is my chance to tell him how i feel about him? but maybe it’s not. then again i’m not sure what kind of a twisted coincidence it might be that we’re both heading up to the same place but at different times. i could always call him to ask about when he’s next planning to talk to her. but i want to stay firm in the belief that i’m his closest buddy, and that maybe he won’t talk to her after all for the next couple of days because he’ll up north, and that i’m supposed to seize this chance…

but maybe it’s all just twisted logic anyway. what if i tell him and it’s not the right thing to do? how am i supposed to know? sometimes i kind of hope to tell him to mess him up with his girl and that he’ll be spinning with what i tell him that he can’t tell his girl and — oh, i don’t know. i’m a sick person.

still. maybe i should tell him. i was the one saying that you have to tell the person before it’s too late, but … under what circumstances is it best to tell someone? these are bad circumstances, but you can never be too sure….

LOVE SUCKS.

 

A Letter.

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible, isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you; then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life… You give them a piece of you. They didn’t ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so a simple a phrase like ‘maybe we should be just friends’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.” – Neil Gaiman

dear friend,

when i first met you, i wasn’t sure what to make of you. you were just an acquaintance of some friends, someone who awkwardly stepped into my life. it’s hard sometimes to remember how i met you. but somewhere in those murky memories, you stepped in — and you got stuck. but you fit — you carved a place in my heart for yourself and i in yours. we fit together. and we were meant to be. not in that mushy gushy romantic way, but in the way that two people who find each other are meant to be friends.

somewhere in between, i started to get to know you. like, really know you – past the jokes, the pick-up lines, the fights, the gossip… i glimpsed into who you were — your strengths, your weaknesses, your memories, your vices and your talents. and somewhere in between, i fell in love with you.

yeah, i know. i’m confused as to why, too. you might not think you’re amazing, but you are. the little things that you do, you don’t even know. dropping a line to ask how i am. those friendly hugs. the whispers and giggles during a lecture. just being there.

one day, you will be more than a friend. you will be an uncle. a father. a boyfriend. a husband. a lover. but most of all, you will be beloved.

but i could never be the one that you want. don’t ask… here’s to living in the moment — for all the heart break and all the heart happiness. i’m happy for you — i really am. but i know that if i had to be honest, some days i couldn’t be more bitter and hateful to you for hurting me like this. falling in love is the best and worst thing that could happen. i hate all this, and i love all this. i hate that my life has turned into one of those stupid, life-proven cliches of two kids who are best friends, and that one of them has fallen in love with the other, while the other remains oblivious and chasing other loves. but i love that we’re best friends; i cherish our friendship like no other.

i know i shouldn’t be telling you this. i know, and i know time and time again that sometimes life isn’t fair; that hope can be a paralyzing and terrible thing… except that i can’t take this. it kills me every time you tell me how much she loves you, what adorable thing she’s done, and just how great this girl is. and i hate myself more every time i laugh at you, tell you that’s great, and all this other bullshit that i don’t mean. (i told you once that you say things you don’t mean, and now i have to apologize to you.) i hate myself for having this stupid hope that you won’t really be in love, that it’s just a stupid high school romance… that if i stick around you enough, you’ll turn to me and realize you really do love me.

i really am a stupid teenage girl.

sincerely,
me