A good few months ago, I went off and brooded for a week straight. At some point during this, I found myself thinking a lot about a friend of mine. After analysing this, unpacking and repacking all sorts of feelings and shit, I realised my already strong feelings for her were not as platonic as I wanted them to be.
I felt pretty fucking shitty about it, naturally. I broke her trust. She confided in me about things, she thought I was her friend. And I was just another prick who was into her.
There was no point packing those feelings back away, it would just bite me in the ass later. I would have to obliterate them entirely. And that could have taken any amount of time. So I told her as soon as I was definite.
It was awful. The most vulnerable I have ever felt in my life. I kept trying to work my way up to it, but there was no way I could segue into it. So after a few attempts and a million apologies, I just outright said it.
Then she said she liked me back.
This isn't the success, though. This happened months ago, and it's only the start.
We didn't do anything about it. She's not really ready for any sort of romance with anyone yet, and I have nothing but contempt for everything to do with the subject. But despite that, I found myself wanting something. And I had no idea what it was.
Weeks and months pass. I find myself filled with this constant fucking need for reaffirmation. Oh, she probably doesn't feel the same way anymore. Oh, I bet she hates me now, after I've gone and done/said that. Oh, I bet she likes that guy better, he's pretty much superior to me in every way.
And not only that, I start rationalising why on earth anyone would feel that way about me me, let alone someone like her. I come up with all these, in all honesty, vaguely insulting theories. Among them the possibility that the only reason she liked me was because I was the safest possible option. An asexual, aromantic guy in a completely different fucking country. An emotional sponge until she was ready to take a risk on someone better.
I'm not sure I've completely discarded that one, it makes a lot of sense. I recognise I probably should, though.
But anyway, yeah, more time passes, and I get on her tits a whole bunch. She's found someone else to confide in now. Come to think of it, I think she found him before I even confessed. Whatever, she's pretty fed up with me, and she's managed to dodge a major bullet.
I am a never ending spiral of self-destruction and barely contained hatred. Not to mention entirely useless and completely without a future. Anyone who gets close to me is only going to get dragged down.
And that is where the success is. Despite my longing for something, we never got involved. And now she is totally over me.
I never dragged her down. I am never going to. She is safe and I am back to being hated by everyone. Status quo is reachieved.
It is all good in the hood, as you young people say.
[small]By the way I am pretty drunk right now so apologies if this is prolix as fuck[/small]
I felt pretty fucking shitty about it, naturally. I broke her trust. She confided in me about things, she thought I was her friend. And I was just another prick who was into her.
There was no point packing those feelings back away, it would just bite me in the ass later. I would have to obliterate them entirely. And that could have taken any amount of time. So I told her as soon as I was definite.
It was awful. The most vulnerable I have ever felt in my life. I kept trying to work my way up to it, but there was no way I could segue into it. So after a few attempts and a million apologies, I just outright said it.
Then she said she liked me back.
This isn't the success, though. This happened months ago, and it's only the start.
We didn't do anything about it. She's not really ready for any sort of romance with anyone yet, and I have nothing but contempt for everything to do with the subject. But despite that, I found myself wanting something. And I had no idea what it was.
Weeks and months pass. I find myself filled with this constant fucking need for reaffirmation. Oh, she probably doesn't feel the same way anymore. Oh, I bet she hates me now, after I've gone and done/said that. Oh, I bet she likes that guy better, he's pretty much superior to me in every way.
And not only that, I start rationalising why on earth anyone would feel that way about me me, let alone someone like her. I come up with all these, in all honesty, vaguely insulting theories. Among them the possibility that the only reason she liked me was because I was the safest possible option. An asexual, aromantic guy in a completely different fucking country. An emotional sponge until she was ready to take a risk on someone better.
I'm not sure I've completely discarded that one, it makes a lot of sense. I recognise I probably should, though.
But anyway, yeah, more time passes, and I get on her tits a whole bunch. She's found someone else to confide in now. Come to think of it, I think she found him before I even confessed. Whatever, she's pretty fed up with me, and she's managed to dodge a major bullet.
I am a never ending spiral of self-destruction and barely contained hatred. Not to mention entirely useless and completely without a future. Anyone who gets close to me is only going to get dragged down.
And that is where the success is. Despite my longing for something, we never got involved. And now she is totally over me.
I never dragged her down. I am never going to. She is safe and I am back to being hated by everyone. Status quo is reachieved.
It is all good in the hood, as you young people say.
[small]By the way I am pretty drunk right now so apologies if this is prolix as fuck[/small]
