teenage dreams.

Now Playing: Speed of Sound by Coldplay (Where to, where do I go? If you never try, then you'll never know.)

It's weird, not being in love. I've been in love for more or less...half my life.

When it first happen it really shook me up a little. I was so very young, but more than that...I was a bit of an asshole, when I was little. Cocky. Confident. I was supremely confident of my charm, of my innate ability of getting things my own way, of the unshakeable knowledge that I could do anything, be anything, if I tried hard enough. I had never failed in anything, never tried to get something or be somewhere and not succeeded. Love screwed me over. I grew up pretty quickly.

I have only ever been judged on the academic scene. It is all I know. I know what to do, I'm in my element. I'm competitive, and I'm good at what I do. I know the ropes, and I know how to take risks, gamble a little. People don't consider me in any other way, other than as a mentor or as a rival. If I ever let the other side show, my other, non-educational dreams peek out, people are taken aback. It's like I can have brains or boobs, but not both. As if someone like me doesn't have the ability, or the right, to love and be loved in return.   

Last year I fell out of love for the first time. No apparent reason. No fight, no nasty breakup, no tears, no angry rants or hateful glares. Nothing happened, nothing good or bad came out of it - maybe that was it. I just gave up, but I was supported, protected. I felt a little empty, a little hollow, but I didn't...really miss it. I was enjoying being indifferent, ambivalent. Content. It was all based on assumptions and wrong conclusions, but hey, ignorance is bliss.

I've fallen out of love again, but this time it was more a conscious decision. Something I had to do, something unavoidable and not entirely pleasant. But it's okay, I'm okay, because this time it's different, again. I've had to settle. Second best for the second best.

It's weird not being in love. I miss the rush, the butterflies, the bubbles and the giggles. I miss the gravity shifting, I miss the little smiles and flirts and winks and the unsteady thrill of he loves me, he loves me not. I love the possibility, the potential, the what ifs and could bes, being on the cusp of that moment of inception...not that that moment has ever actually come, but sometimes the anticipation is as good as, or better.  

I don't do things half way; before now I fell in love in the same way I went about everything else; all or nothing. Things would completely consume me, and I know that my passion and intensity is too much for the pettiness of being a teenager. It freaks people out, scares them. But now...I've learned the art of taking a compliment and thinking nothing of it. Of flirting for the sake of flirting. My friend doesn't approve, but there's a very great appeal in someone with whom you were only ever mildly in love with; sometimes the beauty of it all is that it is only a very vague attraction. I never let it get to me.

I'm not a very patient person. I'm not very good at waiting. The anticipation is killing me. It got to the point where it was past humbling and just plain humiliating. I couldn't face anyone with the sheer incapability of not being able to be seen as attractive, or appealing, and I've done some stupid things to try and fix a problem that wouldn't have existed if I wasn't so damn insecure. I know why I was left on the shelf, I know exactly why. 

I don't want to have a history with someone. I don't want to be with anyone I've ever liked before now, because then I'd only ever be the second choice, and I'm tired of settling for second best. High school is high school; I've made a few friends and lost a few more. But that's all I ever want it to be, just friends, because I don't want to add to any pre-existing complications. I am not the same person I was three years ago when I was young and silly and naive. I just want a clean slate. I've had a little tiny taste of what it might be like to really get to know someone, someone who understands you completely, someone who will tell you anything and know that you can handle it, someone who will hear anything and bear it all. Next year I want someone to just catch my eye and I can live out a very belated teenage dream, and then, maybe, that person will be the one who can finally say 'I get it. I understand. It's the same for me, too.'