On Friends, Boys, and Boys who grow to have Feelings for Me

I’m in that place again where I’m starting to feel insecure about my relationships… because they may be headed in a direction I don’t entirely feel comfortable with.

I guess as I’ve been growing older and becoming more aware of myself and my behavior towards others, I’m beginning to realize patterns. Patterns in the way I approach and see things that allow boys to easily “flock” and see something special in me.

I’ve had countless experiences in the past where I would be friends with a boy, and that boy would grow to have feelings for me, and that boy would end up in disappointment—maybe because I didn’t live up to his expectations or that he had expected more from me. But, if the feeling was never mutual, why expect me to be more than what we had understood of each other?

This has made me begin to realize what it is with me. I’ve always been someone who is highly sympathetic towards others and open to any friendship. I too easily look for the good in everyone and look to understand the flaws and behaviors of someone before judging them. I too easily take people in—maybe because of my self-dependent nature that can get a bit lonely sometimes, or my openness to having good company—that taking people in doubly becomes too easy for me to push people away.

I have this tomboy-ish nature that makes me easily relate to boys. I’ve grown up with two older brothers and live in that entirely “chill,” laid-back and simple mentality. I don’t ask for much to have a good time (just for good people). And, of course I still have my feminine side, but I have a lot of boy interests when it comes to video games and my fascination with music. Most of my friends are boys, while most of my womanly influence comes from women I have admired and looked up to as role models.

But, beside the point—I’m silly, nice, have tomboyish instincts, and can be a little charming sometimes. (Is that weird to admit or say about myself?) I can see why people may flock to me, because—heck—maybe I’d want to be my own friend too! (Or maybe not…)

So, it begins to scare me when I find myself spending more one-on-one time with several of my friends I deem as casual acquaintances. Yes, I love having good company and good conversation and going places and sight-seeing and eating out (is that so bad?), but, I’m afraid that instead of entirely enjoying the moments and company, others seek more of a “safe place” or “safe haven” in me, which has kind of allowed them the chance to like me—because I accepted and understood a part of them no one else really had.

A lot of people, I find, who I have naturally clicked with and have taken a genuine interest in getting to know me, have always been, in a way, flawed souls. There was a piece or part in them that was missing, and they found that in me—whether it be innocence, understanding, a sense of purity, inspiration, conversation, company, or even just a friend. They love being with me.

However, my all-too-nice attitude doesn’t exactly see it the same way. I’m afraid that my feeling is never always mutual… And for someone whose always lived her life chasing things that felt most natural, there’s no need or use in forcing something to happen, right? It’s never good to force myself to want to like someone or want to be someone’s best friend. It just has to happen. There just has to be natural chemistry.

And so, it kind of saddens me to know that good friends of mine, whose company I adore very much, may be getting themselves into something that is no good for them.

There was never any real good in liking me… unless I kind of liked you too.

So when you go out of your way to see me more, to hang out with me more often, to adventure around with me, or count the days you see me or the times you think about me, or how many times you look at my Facebook photos or saved me as your phone wallpaper and think about me too much…

Please, I beg you. As much as I try to help you understand where I’m coming from…

I’m no good in liking. At least right now.

Because you would know if I liked you. Because I wouldn’t be this comfortable with you.

And God knows the last thing I would ever want to see is disappointment, or failing to be a good friend, or hurting you or causing conflict or causing exactly what it was I tried to rid from you.

There’s no good in liking me. Because I am your friend, and I don’t get the sense you know me well enough to like me. Is this what they call, the idea of me, again?

Maybe I’m no good because I push people away. Because, when it comes down to it, I don’t ask for much—I just ask for that one person who really gets me.


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