Ever since that guy kissed me on the cheek at that bar last friday, which had never happened to me before, i've been feeling overwhelmed by this idea of living the kind of life they sell you in movies: meeting new people, hanging out with friends, laughing under the sunlight surrounded by puppies and god knows what else, feeling my daily life is not enough anymore.
It wasn't even a kiss on the mouth, for fuck's sake. But i felt so wanted, I felt for the first time that maybe I could actually go out there and look people in the eye without feeling insecure about who I am or what I look like. I was beaming the day after, thinking, hey, maybe i'm beautiful? Maybe.
But I was still so mad that I needed a stupid guy to think that. I needed a fucking stupid sweet kiss on the cheek. Something so simple. And now I can't stop imagining scenarios in which I actually talk to people, flirt with a guy, I've even been picturing sweet moments and dramas with imaginary boyfriends and, god, it's all so incredibly pathetic.
When I'm outside, I actually feel there's a possibility a guy will look at me and think I'm pretty, and even will stare. And I feel this shallow confidence when I walk, when I'm riding the bus, when I'm in class. It's disgusting.
The guy wanted us to have coffee the next day, but how on earth was i going to say yes? How on earth would I expose myself to the awkwardness that was for sure going to unfold and, really, how can you trust people's words when they're drunk. How was I going to let him see me in the daylight, not protected by the dim lights and loud music anymore. How.
It was very cowardly of me, I know. I know. But I'm still, somehow, relieved, 'cause it makes me fucking sick to think about how worried I'd be.
I want to get out there and actually do things, exciting things, new things, but still wouldn't dare to if the opportunity presented itself.
After this high I can't help but think it won't happen ever again, not like this. And I know how incredibly annoying it is to witness someone being so insecure and predicting the future in such a gloomy way as if they know for sure they're going to be miserable, and no matter how many times you tell them they can't possibly know, they tell you it can't be any other way.
I know and I'm sorry, but I really can't help it.
And trust me when I say I try.
It wasn't even a kiss on the mouth, for fuck's sake. But i felt so wanted, I felt for the first time that maybe I could actually go out there and look people in the eye without feeling insecure about who I am or what I look like. I was beaming the day after, thinking, hey, maybe i'm beautiful? Maybe.
But I was still so mad that I needed a stupid guy to think that. I needed a fucking stupid sweet kiss on the cheek. Something so simple. And now I can't stop imagining scenarios in which I actually talk to people, flirt with a guy, I've even been picturing sweet moments and dramas with imaginary boyfriends and, god, it's all so incredibly pathetic.
When I'm outside, I actually feel there's a possibility a guy will look at me and think I'm pretty, and even will stare. And I feel this shallow confidence when I walk, when I'm riding the bus, when I'm in class. It's disgusting.
The guy wanted us to have coffee the next day, but how on earth was i going to say yes? How on earth would I expose myself to the awkwardness that was for sure going to unfold and, really, how can you trust people's words when they're drunk. How was I going to let him see me in the daylight, not protected by the dim lights and loud music anymore. How.
It was very cowardly of me, I know. I know. But I'm still, somehow, relieved, 'cause it makes me fucking sick to think about how worried I'd be.
I want to get out there and actually do things, exciting things, new things, but still wouldn't dare to if the opportunity presented itself.
After this high I can't help but think it won't happen ever again, not like this. And I know how incredibly annoying it is to witness someone being so insecure and predicting the future in such a gloomy way as if they know for sure they're going to be miserable, and no matter how many times you tell them they can't possibly know, they tell you it can't be any other way.
I know and I'm sorry, but I really can't help it.
And trust me when I say I try.
