#hes not even my type!!!!!! god. anyways back to my crippling anxiety remembering that dream lightened my mood a little at least

[formulaonedirection]

hi nadia, since ur the designated 'crush talk' host i got something for you so buckle up... i've liked this guy since probably last year, i've known him since 2020, as he's a friend of one of my best friends who i currently live with. very smart, intelligent, kind, and so gentle, plus one of his main interests is something that i literally study at university so we have quite a few things in common. since last year i've been noticing these little things, kind of like serendipity, or maybe that's just how i've been interpreting them🤣🤣 just coincidences, most notably we went to the same play at the local theatre but completely missed each other, and also we met on the tram once and since it was packed there was no railing for me to hold onto so he very gently held my elbow (very cute and interesting conversation took place also). he would also often put a heart reaction on my stories whenever i'd post a selfie (he actually did it earlier today as well), and always compliment me whenever i'd post videos of my guitar playing. he once even asked me to play something for him the next time we see each other. so i thought things were going in the right direction... but poor mental health and self confidence really stunt my bravery when it comes to things like this so it's been going rather slowly. he came over when my roommate was throwing a get together the other month but i didn't make it. i've been wanting to tell my best friend about this whole ordeal so that she could maybe put in a good word for her homie but alas i haven't done it. 2 days ago i had a cute but quite vague dream about being in a relationship that had me absolutely wrecked for the entire day so last night i talked to another friend and decided i was going to tell my best friend!! and start making some moves!! fast forward to this afternoon, he comes over randomly just to visit my bestie, i'm over the moon obviously. the 3 of us talk, and then out of nowhere he announces he got back with his ex. what in the absolute dick and balls do i do now

oh my goddddddddd when I got to the end i literally went NOOOOOOOOOOO. I was like. Close to hopeful when you were like I'm gonna make moves but then I remembered this is crush talk and we're all suffering. BLEUGHHHH. Awww man dude that sucks. From the sound of it I'm sure it wasn't all happening in your head cause like he was being all replying guy and liking selfies on instagram guy. I'm sorry but that means something OKAY you can't be A MAN out here liking SELFIES on STORY. Like it's different if you put it on main and the person likes your post but HEART ON AN IG STORY SELFIE??? Nah. If you felt some type of connection I don't think it's fair to assume it was one-sided that's just silly anxiety and insecurity talking. Anyway that sucksssss. Idk how close you are with your bestie roomie but I'd still consider telling her? Maybe in a more casual way like oh my god I totally had a crush on your friend and he got back together with his ex :facepalm: so it doesn't seem That Big Of A Deal that it becomes awkward? Or you could do a proper heart to heart of it. Either way I think if you come out the other side feeling some type of emotional release or growth it's still worth it.

As for Serendipity boy idk try to see if the getting back together with ex thing is serious or if it's just like a fuck it why not situation? Cause sometimes getting back with your ex is truly just an I'm bored, you're bored we know this works in some way so let's just do this again type thing. So I'd say try to get a feel of it before you really lose hope but also more importantly I'm focused on you cause brains are silly and self confidence is SOOOOOO hard like crippling hard. But if the situation changes or another serendipitous man comes along I hope the fact that I'm rooting for you to go for it will help <3 Sorry if this was slightly too woo-woo but I know how hard it is to get over that barrier of your mind telling you NO and just go and get something you want but you're braver than you think! You typed this all out to me and you told a friend about it and you were gonna tell bestie roomie!

#again all advice on crush talk is just purely based on what EYE would do this is not a professional opinion #i am not a professional. in fact i am unprofessional. some might say! #anyway sending you love bestie i hope you see this and it helps in any way!! #as always crush talk is open 24/7 even if I take some time to report back and I always want updates too ok #crush talk

[dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt]

Confession time... yippee.

Well... it's Christmas. I've had a secret that's been dragging me down for two years now, so, I figured, I may as well get it off my chest so I can - hopefully - move on in the New Year. Yeah. 'Hopefully'. Anyway, if I can't be honest at Christmas, when can I be honest? So, here it is: I love you. You probably already knew this. I told you often enough. But I love you. Like, centre-of-my-world, most-beautiful girl/human/being-I've-ever-seen, a-luminescent-angel-in-my-eyes, 10/10-would-marry. That kind of love. Christ, why am I even writing this?

I don't know exactly when I started falling for you, mostly because I don't think I ever 'fell'. Falling brings to mind some an angel, shedding feathers like stars, twisting and turning with exquisite grace as it falls to earth. I, on the other hand, plummeted. Out-of-control. Most likely screaming in a high-pitched, undignified way. I also splattered at the bottom, like an overripe tomato. There's a mental image for you. I was impaled at the bottom of that vast canyon by lovely spires of self-doubt, insecurities, self-loathing, and - worst of them all, the cunning dagger of stone that went right through my heart - foolish, stupid, idiotic, imbecilic hope. I was, to put it bluntly, a terrified, blindsided mess. And also totally, absolutely, completely, utterly in love. You know when you're scrolling through music insinuating romance and you start picturing the one you love? Up until I met you, I'd only pictured fictional characters. Unrequited, yes, and thus painful, but bearable. Fast forward, and  I was actually amazed at how much more painful it was when the object of my imagination was a real and tangible girl - granted, half the world away - while a thousand knives of agony gleefully assaulted my chest. I would cuss myself out at impressive length whenever this happened. Told myself ad nauseam that there was no way in hell that it was happening. Over and over again. Like a broken record. Thought I was gonna go insane. Maybe I did. It feels like it. But it was such an honour to be driven insane by you. I was sort of half glad that we weren't sharing a continent, because if you could meet me face-to-face, you would have known I was head over heels. A blind, deaf, and dumb codfish would have seen it, so there would be no hope for you not noticing - you, so intelligent and perceptive. Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't notice as it was. I couldn't hold myself back from complimenting you practically daily. Maybe you did notice. Sometimes I thought you might have even been flirting back. I dismissed that so fast the thought barely formed; I bashed in its soft infant skull with the brutal logic that was slowly pulverizing my head with its weighty facts. You're beautiful. You're clever. You're creative. You're strong. You're funny. You're smart. You're two years older than me. You want a baby (which I am incapable of giving you without difficulty.) That didn't stop my dumb ass from starting to flirt with you. Many times, I freaked. Thought I'd gone too far, been too obvious. I was quick to fling something platonic at you within the next few messages. My heart raced for a half-hour each time. I am a Hufflepuff, not a Gryffindor, okay. On Valentine's day, I got jealous. I'll admit it. Not even for real people, either. I was jealous over fictional characters, just because you thought of them in a way that you would never think of me. So I sent you a virtual Valentine's card that involved a terrible pun and Comic Sans text. Because I'm a dork, and I have no idea how to do the Romance™. And I wanted to impress you (don't know why I thought that kind of Valentine was the way to do that, maybe because I'm a fucking idiot.) Once it was sent, I freaked, again. Thought I'd gone too far, again. Thank God she didn't notice, I thought reverently after you replied to normally the next day, while I beat back the crippling disappointment using my rib cage as a jungle gym. I tried to be the best boyfriend I could be without actually, y'know, being your boyfriend. I tried to support you. Indulge all your creative ideas (even though 'indulge' feels like the wrong word, since I genuinely loved them.) Whenever you sent pics, I told you how beautiful you looked (you should probably know I almost swallowed my tongue with every picture of you I saw. My puny brain did not like comprehending your level of beauty.) I tried to do everything I possibly could, not even in the hopes that you would actually date me. Just because you deserved my effort and more - as a stranger, as a friend, as a girlfriend. You were you, and that's all that mattered to me. Time went on. Somehow, even though I was already presumably at rock-bottom, I managed to fall even more for you. You were like my own personal brand of quicksand, forget heroin. It was our RPs that kept me from going completely mental. I wrote the other halves of your ships for you - the aforementioned fictional partners over which I was boiling with jealousy - and so I could confess all my feelings for you through their POVs. I could tell you I loved you. I could tell you how I loved you. I could tell you how beautiful, amazing, brilliant you were to me. I could say all of this as many times as I want, and you wouldn't guess it was really me telling you from me, rather than me telling you from your ship-mate. (Now you know why I liked RPing Bree's POV so much. Lucky bastard.) More time went by, and things started getting rough. I kept giving you things. Covers for you and your ships. Things I'd written - scenarios and preferences and imagines, some of them pages and pages long. I kept giving them to you, even when you told me to stop, because the more I gave, the better I felt - it was a way for me to show my love, and I did not want to stop. It wasn't rational, I know, but I felt like if I stopped, I would lose you. But I was giving you too much. It was draining me dry, all my inspiration, all my friendliness, everything. I tried to talk to you about it on several occasions, since you'd told me you were trying to give me more but weren't, but it just ended in arguments after which nothing changed, so I didn't see the point in bringing it up. I started getting anxiety before talking to you. I would spend sleepless nights with headaches pounding behind my dry eyes with every ridiculously fast beat of my heart. I felt sick, listless, constantly tired. I felt like I was killing myself for you, slowly, slowly, slowly, but surely. And yet, I still loved you. It felt like I loved you more and more, every day. I fell for your every quirk, your every 'flaw', your smile and your laugh - oh, your laugh gave me the most indescribable warm feeling, like a small sun of pure joy expanding inside my chest - your mind and your body, your humour, your silliness, your maturity, your childishness - all of it. All of you. I loved you more than myself. And so I kept going. Kept coming on with a smile and a "hello, beautiful" and a handful of pills for the headache that hadn't left since the anxiety-ridden dread of last night. The few times I thought you felt the same were the times that my heart missed a beat, plain stopped, and then sprinted into overdrive. Nervousness and excitement and anticipation. The more excited I felt, the harder the crash after I realized you hadn't meant it. When you finally got a few real boyfriends, I will admit, I lost my cool. Went outside, beat the shit out of the old, tattered couch we had out the back. Had to wait to calm down, played with the dogs, cuddled the chickens, went back inside, and typed the words that bled out of my fingers right from the wound in my heart: "That's great!" I didn't want you to feel bad. I didn't want you to feel anything but happiness, ever. The end came around abruptly. It was the day my Dad asked me to write him something - just something small. He practically begged me, but I said I couldn't. Said I wasn't good enough. Snapped it at him without even thinking. Because I had written so much for you, made so much for you, gave so much of myself away for you, never feeling like it was enough - that I was enough - my self esteem was in shambles. Completely wreaked. I stopped, opened my laptop, and logged into Skype. My fingers hovered over the keys. I felt sick, dizzy, unsteady. My heart was beating so fast I could hardly pick out the individual beats. I was shaking. I distinctly remember the way my teeth chattered. I was terrified. Terrified to leave. More terrified to stay. Torn. Because, even though I was depressed and anxious because of our very uneven relationship, you were responsible for many of the best moments of my life. And they weren't even anything big. They were just us, RPing, talking, laughing together. You had the unique ability to make small, insignificant things, into memories I would cherish forever. You are unique, period. I typed out the first few messages, which were ambiguous, everything in me screaming to turn them into a joke, laugh it off. Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay. But I did it. Said goodbye to you. You replied. I replied to your reply, and I was so pissed, at myself, at you for the way you tried to turn it all back on me even though I had never do anything but love and support you unconditionally, even though I put everything I had and more into making you happy. I said things I didn't need, or really mean, to say.

So I lost you. I know I was the one that said goodbye. I know, and I regret it every single fucking day. I dream about you, for God's sake. My brain hates me more than I know you probably do right around now. On Christmas day, yesterday, I looked through some of our old conversations. I know I shouldn't. I should let you go. Stop living in the past. Let you find someone who can give you what you want and deserve. But I had to look. I cried like a goddamn baby. I've lost count of how many times my cursor has hovered over that request contact button on Skype. The only thing that's stopped me is the knowledge that you're better off without me. And now, here I am, writing all this down even though I hate it. I know you'll never see this. I know you've probably left me behind. I know you probably hate me, and I don't blame you. But I loved you. And I still do. So much that there is a pain like literal fucking knives currently carving your initials all over my insides. Maybe those carvings will heal. Maybe not. I don't even know if I want them to or not. I don't even know anything anymore. Anyway. I just needed to get this off my chest before it crushed me. Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. I wish you nothing but a perfect life. Guess I'll always love you in some way, Pancake. .................... FML.

#me #personal #writing #my writing #best friend #FML #love

[fvisualvomits]

unnotable men with different names (a rchlrnshw copy)

phil: he’s your first boyfriend - an innocent, a good egg. the one who ignited the type. you vaguely remember video chatting on msn, him singing to you. it was a growing experience, he took good care of you and you still fondly cuddle the bear he bought you for christmas sometimes. he’s probably one of the best. perhaps it was childhood innocence, perhaps it was something else - but this is a fond time. a good experience. you still remember the first kiss despite this being around 10 years ago. you remember nights huddled in a friends garage, curled up on a tiny sofa. you remember playing on swings. of movie theaters and of a plethora of scenes. you remember hasty handjobs, of beds and making out. he dumped you in a depressive episode and that led to getting together with william. you think of him often. you speak, sometimes. you’re glad he’s doing well. you worry sometimes about how much you hurt him by having a new boyfriend within a week of the conclusion.

william: william is the first person you had sex with. william is a pop punk dream, obviously a musician. he’s the first boy you’ve kissed with tattoos. he is much older. he is a predator. he changes as if by overnight, going from someone to texts you constantly to completely distant - from nice, to someone who is hardened. his dad once walks in on you fucking to the hokey pokey. you experiment, a lot. he has a good dog. at prom he gets so drunk he passes out lying face down, so you have to sit in the shower and hose him down because he’s beyond inebriated. i remember long drives for cigarettes, and the time a close friend attempted suicide, he cried in your arms, thanked you for being so calm, so composed, so understanding. i remember my own drunken escapades at Reading, heavy petting in crowds. you suddenly feel a crippling pain in your stomach. you ignore it for a few days until putting a hot water bottle to your side, scalding your skin, is more bearable than the pain. the doctor suggests it might be an ectopic pregnancy. you panic. it’s only appendicitis, he grows more distant than ever. you, in your blissfully ignorant youth, find messages on his phone from another girl. he cries. he pleads. you forgive. months down the line you find out he was cheating on you. of course he fucking was. he goes from something treasured to a man with a stupid fucking tree tattooed on his chest. one day you see he’s dressed up as a santa. you laugh, you nearly cry with the hilarity. the last contact you have is him one day sending you pictures of his new shitty tattoos. you laugh, deleting the pictures. you still remember his birthday.

harry: was your last proper boyfriend. he’s cute, dark copper skin and a smile that’s so infectious it could light up a room. he’s damaged in his own way due to the loss of a mother at a young age. you have absolutely fucking nothing in common except drinking, laughing, sex. you tour australia together, have sex in awkward hostel beds, spend days in bed watching films and tv. it’s a fight, even getting into his head. he is easily jealous, easily annoyed. the way he says ‘baaaabe’ is something that wrenches your heart every time. you get a house together. you break into parks at night, you dance in fountains that turn out to be memorials, you go to drum and bass nights and spend all your time drinking hooten on the top of kings cross hostel. ultimately, it fizzles out. you become severely depressed and drained even being around him, you break up. you stop eating. you collapse into yourself. you continue to work and live together, waking up alone in ‘your’ bed is a daily struggle. you pine. just like all the others, you finally get over him eventually. in the last month you’ve seen him around brighton 3 times - you laugh.

toby: toby and you met at a wombats gig in god knows what year. he’s not your type. he’s an office type, football and beers and your stereotypical man. he’s kind and a family man, he’s popular and he’s funny. something bad happens and you’re not sure how, but you end up talking. excessively. all day. you’re both on holiday and you spend half your time going places to get wifi, to steal hidden messages, little flirtations and a smile or two. something about it makes you feel... safe. you plan to meet up as soon as you’re both back. it drags. you go for drinks and your heart is pounding out of your chest. everything is great yet it also feels incredibly secretive. one day he asks to meet up and he ends things with you. you feel numb, but you recognise that it wasn’t going to work. you see each other from time to time, and perhaps your heart might twinge a tiny bit, wondering what if, but you’re happier. good person.

andy - andy initially feels way too out of your league but everyone describes him as ‘nice’. he talks about his ex on the first date. this rings alarm bells. you sold him a ticket to 2000 trees, years ago. things are great and you’re beyond pleased - he meets friends, flatmates, comes to your work do. you allow yourself to get attached, for the first time since ‘harry’ and you’re absolutely petrified. you spend most nights together. it feels very innocent. he talks about you meeting his friends, something changes. a friend informs you that she’s seen him meeting with an ex. one day, he stops talking to you. your abandonment issues, your fear of rejection, they extrapolate. you’re out with an old friend from home, you walk into a bar. you look up and it’s the first time seeing him in months, because you’re a bit drunk - you run out. you’re gobsmacked, you’ve seen him once since, walking down the road with a girl. sometimes you wish you’d confronted him at the pub, or simply received an answer. while you’re over him, you struggled with the psychological trauma of enduring a ghost. sometimes, perhaps in the shower or on rainy days, you wonder, why?

tom: you’ve known tom for years. you’ve always fancied one another, from the beginning. you met on bebo, oddly enough. in 2009 you meet up often, going to a multitude of gigs in london. you discuss nearly everything with one another, you have long phone calls that go on to the stupid hours of the morning. one messy night, in london, you end up kissing. i forget who was cheating, but we buried the secret and put it to the side. years pass, of platonic friendship. one night he comes to visit you in brighton and it’s the first time in years you’re both single. you’re drunk, he finds your bag. on impulse, you kiss him. that night you have sex. suddenly you’re embroiled in a ‘thing’ together. you go to bestival together and it’s very coupley, which you can’t complain about. you go for walks in the woods, find hidden art, the whole relationship is a complete mischievous adventure. you eventually have to end it due to seeing them primarily as a friend. you haven’t spoken in a while, but you’ve seen each other since. another one you wish only the best for.

arthur: arthur is someone that you’re not even sure how you met. you know the first time was at your birthday party, sure. however suddenly you’re alone, nearly every day, hanging out on the sofa. talking. then suddenly you’re kissing, and then it goes from there. he drops out of school and is near permanently at yours. it’s peaceful, it’s nice, it’s being relaxed within the company of someone. you don’t know if you’re attracted to them conventionally but there’s some charm around them that has you utterly hooked. you go to gigs, driving home to cuddle up on the sofa. one night, you have sex in a frosty van outside your friends house. you spend countless nights talking about nothing and feel reassured in the space of an intellect. you’re getting little to no sleep over this boy. you spend a week locked in a studio with arthur and some friends, he tries to push you away but it just ends up happening anyways. distance ruins it. you’re still friends. nothing but affection for arthur.

connor: connor is the definition of a softboy. he describes himself as a goth. he’s incredibly soft spoken, a voice like velvet. looks dorky, silly with a lopsided grin and glasses. you adore it. you invite him round initially on a drunken whim, he’s high as a kite - you’re amazed he even showed up. he’s a quiet introvert. he’s covered in tattoos. he’s got an almost nervous, distanced aura about him. one day he comes round when you don’t feel well, and ends up missing trains because you’re busy chatting, kissing. your sexual saga was hilarious. skin so soft you don’t want to stop touching it. anxiety and depression naps all round. you’re somewhat smitten. he goes away for an extended period of time, it ends. upon return he’s been speaking to an ex. you distance. you run into each other sometimes. connor was a question mark.

(all names changed)