Surprisingly enough, a couple of boys have told me they like me–one, what, freshman year? Then another one this year. At this rate I’ll finally be dating someone in the year 2045.
You see, I don’t like them back. Not like I want to. I always use the whole “I’d rather be friends” approach and though I mean it, I would never want to be told that.
I’m always a fan of the “if they don’t know, they can’t reject me.”
But, for real? What do they see. One of the major reasons I don’t “put myself out there” is because I cannot find the balance of liking myself–my body, my mind, my logic, my memory, my conscious, my past–it all follows me and anchors me and drains me and I am stuck with the guilt of hating myself and left the pain of wondering why you don’t.