7 out of 12

Oh, July. You were all about this boy.

I’m finally admitting it to myself, and pouring it on here in the hopes of getting over all these feelings I honestly, absolutely cannot afford to have.

In the wise words of John Mayer:

It shouldn’t matter, but it does.

If people were to ask me about us — what we were, what I wish we’d have, I completely blank out. I think we like each other (?) in some level or form; enough to kiss a couple dozen times. I’m not entirely sure, and that’s the thing. Our thing — in all it’s glorious uncertainty, irresistible, and highly treacherous — is the only thing I’m sure of.

We like each other’s company, but we’re simply not interested in each other. We don’t invest our time taking each other out on dates, or chatting over the phone for hours, or intentionally getting to know our deepest darkest secret. We don’t try to iron out the mix signals, the what ifs and could’ve beens, or even speak about it at least. Is it because deep down we know what we have is hopeless? Is it because we know we’re not worth each other’s most vulnerable state? Are we too scared to admit out loud that we can’t be what we each deserve? Is it because of fear? Is it because we risk losing our friendship?

I genuinely have so many questions, questions I’ll have to keep to myself, if that means keeping his company. But, is this — along with the confusion, blurred lines, and mental real estate really worth keeping?

I am still learning to establish my boundaries, and respect my space. I want to be able to be intentional and meaningful towards the energy I give out and the people I share it to. I’d definitely hate to realize I’ve wasted my time and attention on the wrong people. This is my pursuit.

I am worth being pursued and committed to; confidently, and vulnerably. I am worthy of a great, love, because I know my love for them will be great too. Its that simple. And so, if it’s anything below of that, then here’s my answer:

No, thank you.