Distracting.

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit

Well, it's happened again. I've got feelings for someone. And just my luck, he's straight. Which means of course there's no hope for me. I didn't want to develop any feelings for him, but, well, there it is.

Let me say a few things about him.

He's funny, charming, sweet, intelligent, and an incredible musician with a smile that beams to the moon and back. I've only got a crush on him, as far as he knows, and he's cool with that. We'll even crack jokes about it every now and then. Except, my feelings have gone past that point, and he's got no clue.

We go to the same school, and we're really good friends. We've spent lots of time together among other friends, but once in a while we'll talk privately, whether in person or online. We trust each other with our secrets, and come to each other for advice or comfort during difficult times. You could say we're kind of each other's confidante.

But not this time. I can't talk to him about this. I can't risk ruining another perfectly normal and highly successful friendship by admitting my feelings for someone who'll only feel guilty about not being able to reciprocate. Not a third time. I've learned my lesson.

But it's distracting. He's where my mind goes when it wanders. He's who I try very hard not to stare at when we're in the same room. He's the one whose hand I'm always tempted to hold whenever he sits next to me. He's the one whose little green dot I look for when I go on Facebook, forever wanting to say something but never finding anything worth talking about. He's the one who once jokingly told me "I missed you" one day at school, utterly oblivious to how much he made me blush under those orange lights. He's the one I always hug just a few seconds more than I do other people, since I'm at peace whenever he puts his arms around me and I'm always hesitant about letting him go.

I don't know if I'm in love with him. I'm not sure yet. But I don't want to get there. I'll just be sabotaging my friendship with one of the most outstanding people I've ever met in my whole life.

And it

Just. Really.

Fucking.

Sucks.

What the fuck should I do?
What the fuck CAN I do??

Consider This My Cry For Help

I can't remember the last time I ever felt real, lasting happiness. Up to this point, everything's been just a series of fleeting, almost pointless moments of happiness -- short distractions from the feelings I have everyday. I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know how to fix myself. All I ever want to do anymore is sleep and cry. The only reason I don't is that I insist that every new day will present itself as less depressing than the last. It never is.

I hang out with friends, listen to cheerful music, watch actions and comedies, play exciting video games, eat good food, make jokes for people and make them laugh, I sing, I smile, give out hugs, compliment people regularly, I get invited to places, get included in conversations, and I completely lose it when I see cute little puppies... And although it may sound absolutely selfish, I still don't feel like it's enough. I still feel as if none of it is... real.

As if my existence is only being tolerated, not appreciated.

Like I'm the human Lorem Ipsum.

Here to fill some space, but still so easily replaced.

So easily forgotten.

I try to be positive, and I actually make an active effort to make every day not just survivable, but actually enjoyable. I find excuses to smile, and sometimes resort to inventing my own, no matter how convoluted or shallow they may be. I find comfort in showing affection to my friends, even if it's clear that some of them aren't interested in receiving it, unless it comes in the form of free stuff. Funny how nobody is ever uninterested in receiving free stuff.

It's so tiring. I'm so tired. I've been able to endure it for years, letting the days just keep chipping away at my foundation, but now I'm finally feeling its effects, making me weaker, and now I'm scared. I feel like Humpty Dumpty, and my wall is being eroded by constant doubt, until I eventually fall. And I can never be put back together. I may not even want to be put back together, for fear of breaking again.

I don't know why I feel like this, despite my constant effort to combat it. That just makes me even more frustrated with myself. I don't want to feel like this.

Consider this my cry for help.

Please... someone fix me before I break.

Over

This goes out to my first ever ex-boyfriend.

I know you broke up with me because you thought you couldn't make me happy. I understand that there are parts of your life that you can't control, and those things result in you having little time for me. You broke up with me because you felt like I deserved better. You broke up with me because you thought we needed it.

I am writing this to tell you how wrong your thinking was.

You assumed I was not happy because you had barely any time for me and could never properly express your affections for me. True, there were times that I felt sad because I missed you after not having seen you a few weeks, but I never felt that the time you gave me wasn't enough. It was in fact one of the best feelings, knowing that there was someone who used what little free time they had to go out of their way to come see me. I never complained about that. And whenever you couldn't bring yourself to tell me you loved me? Yes, it was saddening at times especially when I needed to hear it the most. There were nights when I doubted if you loved me at all. Those nights were the most challenging. But I didn't give up on you because I believed you loved me even without those words. You were able to prove it to me, time and again. Hearing or reading the words would have been nice every once in a while, but it was never a requirement. We loved each other, and we were always sure to show it.

You assumed I was not happy because you were not good enough. The truth is that I always thought you were way out of my league. Hell, maybe half the time we were together I was scared that you'd realize that, too. I was always the one feeling inadequate. I'm not good-looking like you, or successful, or intelligent, or own a car, or have any exciting hobbies. All I ever had to offer was my love for you. And I tried to give you as much of it as possible, to compensate for my lack of anything else. You were more... way more than I could have ever asked for. And I had you. And I failed you.

You assumed we needed to break up as it would have been better for us both, considering the circumstances. If only you knew how much you inspired me. If only you knew how much you motivated me to do well in school, so I could graduate, get a job, and finally be able to help build a future with you. You were the reason I strived so hard. Thinking about you, talking to you, having you to cheer me on the whole way, those were my fuel. I thought music was my passion, but never have I felt more passionate about it than when I had you to give me purpose. I wrote songs about you -- about what you meant to me and how happy I was with you. I needed you. I still do.

I have felt angry and depressed at your decision. But I cannot deny that I still love you, and that I miss you and I want you back.

You said this would only be temporary; that someday we'd get back together when things in your work and family life calmed down. You told me you still loved me and that we'd still be friends. Lately, though, we haven't been speaking much. Our conversations are short, cold, awkward, distant, and lifeless. You seem disinterested in me now. Do I not mean anything anymore? Is this how you really feel, or are you just coping? Do you really still love me and are willing to try again someday?

Or is it all over? I hope not. I'm not over you.

I haven't given up on us. Please don't give up on us either. I need you to be my puppy again.