the morgue

As a person, I state my principles and my opinions, but lately I’ve become a hypocrite.  About a year and a half ago, I wrote a blog on Facebook when I was thinking one day, deemed “I like you.”  It wasn’t a love letter, of course not, that’s silly.  It was a statement which basically insulted people who do not just SAY what they SHOULD say.  Mocking the people who don’t just say their feelings without fear of consequences.

Yet… I constantly fear rejection.

I don’t yearn for acceptance by everyone, but I fear rejection from the people I do like.  Even people I just want as friends.  I’m not sure if I’m acting correctly or if I should give them a hug or whatever.  One of my friends I’ve known for a long time, and I didn’t hug him until a year and a half after I met him.  I don’t know… maybe that’s strange.  Maybe I don’t just fling out actions like people can be so comfortable doing.  I’m a little awkward.  If I say something bizarre, I think about it afterwards for a long while.  Pondering: what did HE think about that?!

I’ve gotten into this mode of turning in to what people think I am.  And it’s not the girl who adores everyone around her or the girl who goes with the flow or the girl who never has a nasty thing to say.  I’m the person who basically… intimidates a lot of people.  I’ve turned into the know-it-all in some of my classes.  I’m… shy and awkward around boys.  Ones I like.  Of course.

I’m elementary.

I know what affection is, I know how to kiss, I know how to hold hands… and unless I’m sure, I won’t do any of it.  I must be certain about a relationship before investing.  I don’t flirt without knowing if the person I’m flirting with is interested in me.  Likes me.

I suppose I thought it was so easy to take the dive before.  I suppose I did not examine myself under the microscope until now.  I think too much about what I say before I say it, so much to the point that I lose the opportunity to speak.  I lose the courage to speak.  To say something.  To ask how his weekend was or to ask a friend how their date went.  Whatever.

It’s my senior year.  Maybe I’m overthinking.