Envy keeps getting the best of me. And that says a lot for someone who isn't even the jealous type. But I believe to an extent I must be because I find it extremely difficult to separate jealousy and admiration. I've never been spiteful of a crush choosing someone over me, mainly because I often belittle myself until my anxiety deems me unworthy of their attention. This mentality forces me to focus my attention elsewhere and I become the biggest cheerleader for their happiness while settling in the friendzone.

When I fall for someone, I am interested in knowing them as they know themselves, to further enhance my advances on them. Is that manipulative? To be able to understand those by their own interpretation of themselves, or is that the hopeless romantic in me being guided by rose-colored glasses?

Regardless, I am beyond exhaustion of chasing people.

I'm 26. It is not fun knowing your crush knows how you feel about them and being stuck in limbo. It is not fun beating around the bush. It is not fun feeling like a goddamn child when trying to get to know someone. It's childish that I'm even referring to him as a crush. We are grown ass men, I'm interested in all aspects of his character but I feel as if my intentions are extremely lost in translation or, honestly, it could be that I've made myself very clear and he's just not interested. That's pretty valid. And as the fifth time editing this post, it suddenly feels pointless to continue writing this...

It saddens me that I've advanced every part of myself besides courtship. I don't want to be alone but I've gotten pretty good at it. I rely on myself to make thorough decisions that have both short-term and long-term concerns. I find it easy to speak my mind when it comes to artistic, political and ethical expression and often stand my ground through the aftermath. I always hold myself accountable for the consequences of my actions and try my best to encourage others to follow suit. But all of my life, my biggest fucking struggle is telling someone that I'm interested in them, or worse, not even noticing when they're into me. I am absolute trash. I'm so blunt and frugal that if someone doesn't blatantly say, "Hey, I like you..." I literally miss all of their signals and go back to my inner-turmoil of missing out on love.

But speaking from an artistic perspective, it feels fucking amazing to make work when I have butterflies in my stomach. Having that little gleam of hope that they like me the same way I like them makes me float over cloud 9000 and my creativity flows for weeks, months and years. Honestly, I'm still riding on a high from 2008, and it'll never go away. But there's more out there and I want to believe that in the end love won't leave me out.

ReflectiveDePaul VeraThoughts