You know what I mean by like-liking someone. More than liking but definitely not ready to start casting the other L word about. Quite frankly, this is new territory for me. I’ve had crushes before. Lower school crushes on fellow sticky children, crushes on a charismatic teacher or two, silly crushes from afar, brief crushes on men I’ve met for mere minutes and shared clumsy drunken kisses with, if they can even be considered as such. Super deep, intense crushes however, not quite that common. Crushes that have made me, a generally emotionally inept human being, feel almost every emotion under the sun and have, to put it sickeningly, changed me to some extent, I can count on one hand. In fact, half a hand. Two, there have been two. The first was requited to some extent, the second remains to be seen and at present is playing havoc with my well-being
I’ve liked this person for a good few months. About two months ago it reached the stage where I suddenly realised that were this person to not like me back, I would probably be pretty upset. Now I’m essentially a bubbling cauldron ready to overflow if nothing happens soon and yet I can’t do anything about it because I’m too awkward and panicky
My self-worth is non-existent. It has been for a long time, long enough for me to try to believe that I should simply accept my fate as the viewer not the doer. I should just grace the earth with the hand I’ve been dealt. Here she is world, a somewhat funny if cumbersome adult-child with minimal personal drama because her low self-esteem renders her incapable of living life properly. She also possesses the emotional scale of a teaspoon, but hey she’s a good listener
I don’t know how to believe that someone might not think that about me. Sometimes someone will hand me a compliment and it makes me quietly happy, but then I feel awkward about it because my mind forces me to convince myself that it’s untrue. My mum will say “you hair looks lovely today,” and I’ll say “you have to say that. You’re my mum.” The upshot is, I don’t like myself, so how on earth can I expect someone to like me?
One friend who has been strenuously attempting to coax me into making some sort of move has said “the risk of rejection is worth it, even if it’s a bit awkward after, it’s just better than not knowing.” But I don’t think I can agree with that. I am a constantly awkward anxiety-riddled human being whose exhausting daily life is controlled by trying to relieve potential awkward situations, not create them willingly
I have been close to telling him. A few nights ago, I fell into a bit of a rabbit hole thoughts-wise and abruptly convinced myself that I had to tell him or I never would. The whole endeavour was short-lived because I panicked so considerably that I ended up literally running away from him
Like-liking someone when battling mental health problems is essentially the pits. It’s yet another thing to over-think and stress about, another something to add to the list of ever-expanding somethings to panic about. Only, it’s not just another something, it’s something deemed pretty momentous. I never pegged romantic situations and like-liking someone as momentous, but then again it’s not often I feel this intensely about a person. Suddenly, I find myself understanding songs I didn’t understand before, and actually wanting to watch rom-coms. The shame. It can only get better, or worse. I don’t seem to be as good at judging outcomes as I thought I was. A crystal ball would be handy right about now to be honest
Thanks for reading, Hils