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Pretty reckless, but totes worth it.
It’s so difficult to love someone in silence.
You have to content yourself with loving them from afar; with little things that don’t really mean anything. You content yourself with smiles that weren’t meant for you, and with “accidentally” running into them in the halls; with knowing that you know who they are and almost everything about them when they don’t know a thing about you.
But the worst part is knowing that they will never love you back.
You know this. You’ve always known this—that you’re wasting your affections and emotions on someone who sees you as nothing more than a face in the crowd—nothing more than someone they pass in the halls, or see every now and again when they’re motivated enough to come to class. They’ll see you and they’ll try to remember why you’re so familiar, and all they’ll remember is how they must’ve run into you a few times in school, or seen you at a gig, or seen you commenting on a common friend’s Facebook status.
It’s difficult, but it’s manageable, holding onto a dream that someday, if they only gave you a chance, you could write beautiful stories together. If they could only see that your very existence complemented theirs, then they’d realize how good things could be, and how happy you could make each other. It’s difficult, but it’s manageable, loving the perfect person, and never getting close enough to see them for who they really are—just another teenage dirtbag like you.
But isn’t it more difficult to love someone you spend time with everyday? To love someone you’ve grown to love despite their horrible sense of fashion (or lack thereof) and that morning breath that makes you believe the apocalypse is coming? To love someone you’ve grown close to—whose taught you to look past differences and deficiencies—to someone you would call a friend?
You see them every day but can’t do anything but let what you feel grow. (Have you ever tried to stop yourself from falling in love? Your chest tightens and it hurts more than being punched in the boobs). There’s too much at risk, you tell yourself. And so you live your life as though nothing is wrong.
It’s difficult, watching them from so close, yet knowing that nothing could ever come from it. Holding them when they’re sad, staying up with them when they’ve got loads to do, laughing with them about jokes that could send you straight to hell, going out of your way to make everything easier for them, and hearing them talk about someone else.
We’ve all been there before. You tell yourself it’s better off this way because, really, you’d rather be friends than risk losing them when it turns out that your feelings can never be reciprocated. You tell yourself to be content, yet you find yourself still hoping. Hoping more than you did when you were loving from afar. Hoping more now that they’re so close.
Why do we lie to ourselves and deny ourselves of the chance to be truly happy—to make someone happy because we know we can? Why do we content ourselves with a life of mediocrity and digging for meaning in mindless conversations about cats and dogs and ex-lovers? Why do we force ourselves to live with stabbing pains in our hearts and lungs when reason says it’s much easier to say what we mean and mean what we say?
It’s difficult to love someone in silence.
It’s difficult to risk losing something you’ve worked so hard for, like your pride or your dignity, or a friendship you’ve spent months building.
But it’s more difficult to live with regret, to live with “what if”s and “I should’ve”s.
You need to remember that there’s potential in every little thing, the same way you’d found hope and meaning in their vague and ambiguous texts, and their perverted jokes. You need to remember that “whatever happens happens” and that the Universe wills nothing but your happiness. Nothing can strike you down but yourself.
It’s difficult to love in silence, so, stop.
Either you stop loving, or you stop doing it in silence.
It doesn’t matter if they know you or not—anybody would be flattered. Even friends would appreciate it at the very least. (Sure, things could get awkward, but at least you’ve stopped lying to them, and to yourself. Honesty can get you so far in this world, if you know how to use it well. Crush is creeped out by your confession? No problem! They don’t know you anyway! See? Win-Win!) Understand the risks, and recognize the potential for profit.
The challenge then, especially for us in the Friendzone, is to be honest, for once in our lives. You said you didn’t mind when they said they “just want[ed] to be friends”. You said you didn’t mind when they said “We’re good, right?” But every day, your heart reminds you that you lied. You dumbass, you do mind, and now you’re paying for it every single day of your miserable life.
So stop being ForeverAlone when you know there’s really just one person who can make you happy—especially when the person is right there. Right in front of your face. Every single day of your miserable life.
