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epibiotic · 7 years

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I’ve had this damn blog since 2009 so I may as well use it once and a while to get some things off my tiddies.

I feel like I’m coasting through life with no real direction these days. It’s strange, you know, thinking you have your life going the way you want it to then suddenly waking up one day and realising you really don’t.

I’ve been having serious doubts about whether I want to actually become a teacher or not. While I honestly enjoy my placements, I don’t know if I’d be satisfied living it out as my career for the rest of my life. In the same breath, I have no idea what else I want to do as a career. I will finish my post graduate diploma, however who knows whether I’ll end up using it. I’m having a slight crisis about it but I guess we’ll just have to wait until I graduate to deal with that properly.

I haven’t been happy lately, either. My anxiety has been real bad recently and it’s been affecting me hard. I’ve also been having a lot of self-esteem issues which, for the most part, and probably surprisingly, haven’t hugely affected me before in the past. It’s probably a good thing, because its been motivating me in a way to try and lose some weight which, as a fat chick, is frankly pretty good. But it comes with it’s downfalls. My eternal struggle for recognising my own inner beauty (gross) has back-pedalled a bit, due to a few things which I’ll discuss later. I’ve been fat for as long as I can remember, I was never really huge though until after my dad got sick and consequently passed away. It had a massive affect on my mental health and lo and behold, I eat my feelings. In saying that though, my view about myself never changed. I still thought I was cute, and a cool person. Now I’m doubting that for the first time in my life and it’s hard to deal with. I’ll get my big girl pants on and deal with it eventually, but for now, it’s taking its toll.

On a more dumb note, even though it’s still making me unhappy, fuck boys lmao. Both metaphorically and literally. This is gonna be the long part of this post, so get ready.

Before I continue with this part, this is a message to the suspect in question who I know for a fact has a habit of stalking girl’s blog posts: I’m just venting bruh. I haven’t talked to anyone really about this, and I just wanna get my feelings off my chest somewhere that no one in particular is gonna read it. Don’t read into this too much, although you might. I can’t stop you, dude. Just know that I still value your friendship very highly. Just because I liked you a lot doesn’t stop us talking about dumb shit and sending each other stupid memes. Also, I swear to god if you break our snapchat streak, I’ll be pissed. So let’s continue, shall we? It’s gonna be long, so strap yourselves in.

For the first time in my adult life, I had a genuine crush on someone. He was someone who I’d known for about a year or so, he was just an acquaintance you could say, and I never really paid him much attention. In fact, when I first was introduced to him, I actually didn’t like him that much at all. Over time, we saw each other more often and interacted more, I warmed up to him and realised we actually had a lot in common. He became closer to my close group of friends as well, so I started seeing him more regularly. I have a ‘type’, believe it or not, and he falls straight into it, so it was dangerous from the start.

Now, before I go any further with this story, I want you to know that I have a habit of ‘falling’ for people that show any sort of interest in me. That being said, there’s a certain element of total awareness in this, and I brush it off easily. The number of times I’ve had ‘crushes’ on people I was casually hooking up with is too many to count. This didn’t happen here. I fell for this guy, hard, and I couldn’t brush it off for whatever reason. It felt different, it made me feel vulnerable, and I hated it.

There was a turning point where my vague interest developed into an actual crush, though. There was an incident where I was dumb and injured myself, and he looked after me in that moment. I don’t know what it was about that, but I think I saw a different side of him and it was the nail in the coffin. Him squeezing my hand as I bled profusely, and laughing together as he drove me to the doctor to get stitches - that probably had something to do with it. Alas, he had a girlfriend, so I shelved those emotions pretty quickly, although I still glanced at them from time to time. Ten or so months passed and as much as I’d tried to ignore them, they still existed and there was nothing I could do about it. Then, one day, somewhat out of the blue, he says to me, “I broke up with my girlfriend.” In my head, all I was thinking was, “Oh, shit.”

The feelings I’d had put on the shelf fell down and hit me on the head like a sack of shit. All of a sudden I didn’t feel guilty to feel the way I did, yet I still couldn’t do anything about it because frankly, I’m gutless when it comes to relationships and shit. Absolutely no way in hell was I going to approach him, nuh uh. Besides, he’d just come out of a long term relationship, I wouldn’t want to bother him just yet, right? At the same time, he was about to move away and I’d see him less regularly. I was conflicted, but because I’m a pussy, I did nothing about it and just wallowed in my own thoughts. As usual.

A month or so passes, he moves away. I don’t see him, we don’t really talk. I still like him.

The next time I see him, we’re at a Christmas function with friends, it’s also my birthday weekend. A lot of us haven’t seen each other in a while, and it’s a good night out. I spend the entire night confused as to whether these feelings are presenting themselves the way they are because I’m lonely and he’s just a good friend, or whether I genuinely like him. I remember getting home, and going to bed (at 9am, mind you. We party hard.) and crying because of how dumb I was being about the whole thing.

Another month or so passes. Again, I don’t see him. We talk a little bit, but not a lot. I still like him.

The next time I see him, it’s Boxing Day and we’re having a get together at a friends house with our group of close friends. By this point, I’d kind of just given up hope of my feelings ever becoming anything, so I’d pushed them aside to just have a fun evening with my buds. Then I took a cap and that threw that idea out the window. Hello, police officers, I know you’re reading this, but I’m a very touchy feely person when I’m on MDMA. Combined with the fact I’d just gotten over a case of gastro, and the probably lethal amount of alcohol I consumed that night, it was a bad mix. It also didn’t help he was the one who made me drink all that alcohol thanks to a definitely rigged game of “shot pong” but, y’know. I remember laying on the trampoline, side by side, looking at the stars. I was royally fucked, and there was another girl on the tramp with us, but in that moment I just remember leaning into him, feeling comforted. This sounds creepy as fuck, doesn’t it? I’m not a stalker I swear. I also vaguely remember not wearing pants for a lot of the night, wading in a child’s paddling pool, having a trampoline spring catch my inner thigh, and me furiously cuddling my friends dog because no one else was awake to keep me company. So that’s probably a good indication of my state that night. We spent the morning hanging with our friends on the ye olde trampoline, trying with all our might to break the fucker. Trampoline status: still intact. Either way, I got home the next day and my top smelled like him and it made me so fucking annoyed because that night properly cemented the fact that, yep, you’re a fucking loser with a giant crush on a boy.

From this point on, we started talking a bit more regularly, for whatever reason. Maybe it was the fact that we’d shared an emotionally stressful game of beer pong, or maybe it was the fact that I think we might have actually kissed on Boxing Day - I literally can’t remember because I was that drunk but if you’re reading this and do remember, please tell me? I’d love to know, for my archives or whatever. Anyway.

I think it’s mid-January by this point, and I’m still lingering in the “are you my friend, or am I madly obsessed with you” state of mind. We’d been talking pretty regularly, and it’d even gotten to the point where there was what I would call textbook ‘flirting’ between us. Not that this means much, as he’s just a naturally flirtatious person and I’m pretty cheeky when it comes to returning stuff like that, so whatever. Either way these exchanges obviously fuelled my emotions to the point where I couldn’t really attempt to ignore them anymore, so instead I was trying to deal with them. We’re talking one night, he’s out drinking with his friends and then he snaps me, “come pick me up.” I hesitate, but I’ve just had a red bull because I was studying so I’m zazzed to the gods and think, “sure, why not.” I go pick him and his friend up, take them to McDonald’s, do the full ‘designated driver is ashamed to know these drunken idiots’ routine. But the entire time, I’m not blind, it was a flirt fest. I dropped them home, and as soon as I left I distinctly remember saying, “Ah, shit.” in the car on the drive home. I’m a damn fool. He’s got me, and I don’t know what he wants from me, either.

It’s at this part of the story that things get interesting. It’s worth noting that I know I’m not the only girl he’s flirting with at this point. That’s just him. He’s the kind of person that is probably ‘seeing’ several girls at once, and that’s cool. You do you, just don’t lead me on too far. And that’s where things get hazy. Because, when you have feelings for someone, if you are lead on even just the slightest bit, your heart gets dragged further than where it should be. And that’s what happened to me here. You’ll see.

To cut an already long story slightly shorter, we talked a lot more, I eluded to the fact I like him every now and then, we flirt some more, then he said to me “we should go for a drink sometime.” Now, if I’m not mistaken, that to me means let’s go on a date, no? Maybe I misinterpreted this, but this is where I fell. I let my dumb feelings get in the way of being level-headed about it, and I fell. He came over to my house one night, we drink 1.5 litres of Vodka in about 2 hours. About halfway through the bottle, I kiss him. He kisses back. We make out to Adore by Amy Shark. I, filled with my liquid courage, tell him I like him. (I mean duh at this point but whatever.) But his response wasn’t “I like you too” or “but we’re just friends.” It was, “why?” This confuses me at first, because I myself am not even sure. We’re just very similar people, and anyone that can make me happy is a winner, I guess. The night progresses, we do more things, he walks in on me peeing and hands me a watermelon (???), we kiss some more, we go to my bedroom, stuff happens, he vomits in my shower because he drank too much, I sit on the side of the bath teasing him because he’s not pissfit as he’s naked, puking in the shower. I clean him up. We sleep. The next morning, we wake up, cuddle for a bit, he leaves. I’m paraphrasing here because I was still pretty drunk but as he leaves, he says the damning words that lead me to where I am now; “Don’t read into last night. We’re just friends, yeah?”

And then the trail goes cold. We still talk, but not like that. Much. We still flirt, and we still send each other suggestive snapchats every now and then. But it’s not like that. At least, I don’t think it is. And it kills me, because I still really like him as much as I try not to. I’d started to fall, and it’s hard to get yourself back up when you’ve already hanging off the edge of the cliff. And whats even worse is that he knows I like him, and I feel like he might be trying to use that to his advantage. But who knows at this point. As much as I like him, I want to let it go now. It’s been over a year I’ve wasted on this dumb crush. It’s not like it’s stopped me from getting dicked, but I’d like to stop thinking about him every damn time I do. Thanks, brain.

At the end of all this, I still value him as a friend, and this whole thing has definitely brought us closer. I talk to him about stuff I would never talk to others about. I don’t know whether that’s healthy or not, but it happens. Something a bit traumatising happened to me the other week and he was the only one I spoke to about it, so I guess it’s nice we have trust in each other. I dunno what the moral of the story is here. I just needed to blurt out everything I’ve been going over in my head for the past fucking year, I guess. It’s made me sad, it’s made me happy, and it’s made me seriously doubt my worth as a person. Was I stupid to believe that anyone could actually like me in that way? Who knows, all I know it that I’m back on my way to being contently single again, and that my vibrator is still better than any man in the bedroom.

Once again, if you’re reading this, it’s too late. But seriously, don’t think that any of this changes our friendship. This is just me and my over-analytical brain fucking me over. It’s not you. I still don’t blame you for anything. I promise I’m not crazy, sometimes a girls just gotta vent, y’know?

I just looked at my clock and I spent 2 hours writing that bit about the boy. Wow okay. Time for me to fuck off this website until I’m feeling sad and reflective again. Bye.

#personal #mega personal #blog #boys suck buy a hitachi

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