What is love? I’m not sure. But when you told me you loved me, I had a mix of emotions. I was excited to hear you say it because although I had suspected, I had never thought anything would actually come out of it. I was also shocked because I just don’t see anything in myself that makes me lovable. There’s nothing special about me and I wouldn’t say I’m pretty. I’m just average. I was scared too because now you’d put into words what I had suspected for years. By saying it, by writing it out, you confirmed all suspicions. I didn’t know what to say. Was I to express my true feelings too? No, I couldn’t because our families would never approve of marriage and I knew that. I had thought about it a lot before you told me, what our chances were. But I quickly realized that we didn’t have any chance so I dropped my dreams and just enjoyed whatever time I could get with you. But now that you’d expressed what I meant to you, you asked me if I felt the same way. And I lied. I lied to your face and told you no. I acted nonchalant and pretended like it wasn’t a big deal. I pretended that I didn’t care either way and that it really didn’t make a difference in my life at all. And I hated myself for lying. I hate lying and to have to lie about something so big and dear to my heart, it hurt me. But probably not as much as it hurt you. And I’m sorry that I hurt you so much. I’m really sorry. But I just don’t see this going anywhere so it’s best to cut it off now. Before we get too invested. And so this doesn’t come to bite me in the butt years later. Honestly, I don’t myself with you. I suppose you could consider it a fling of sorts even though our entire relationship has consisted of flirting and nothing more. I like to consider you a brother, ideally, even though in my heart I have other feelings. But I try to limit my external expressions to those that are appropriate to a brother. I don’t myself with you because we are two very different people. I value religion, family, and education and you don’t. Those things are very important to me and if they aren’t to you, then I just don’t see how this could ever work. What is it then that brings us together? Why do you even like me? I have no idea. I wish you would tell me but I’m scared to ask because it would probably hurt you more to have to talk about this with me. Why did I like you? I don’t know, it was you, your demeanor, your hilarious attitude towards life. I loved it. I tried to predict your sentence when we texted and I usually got it right. But in all honesty, we don’t know each other. At all. I just needed to get this off my chest. It’s been almost 4 months and I am still thinking about this. I hope that you find happiness and forget about me. And I wish the same on myself. And I am really sorry for hurting you. Honestly.
I never thought that her anger could affect me so much. My mom is mad at me, for whatever reason, and she has been for a week now. It started last weekend, when I was supposed to wash the dishes. My dad started washing the dishes because he didn’t know that I was supposed to, and I didn’t stop him. I hate washing the dishes and if someone else wants to do it, that’s fine by me. My mom came down and was furious that I hadn’t stopped my dad and done the dishes myself. She started yelling at me, that I was a college student, that I should know better, that I shouldn’t let my dad do the chores. This sexist attitude of hers riles me up every time so I was pissed off because of it. I told her that my dad was almost done with the dishes anyways so there was no point in stopping him. That really made her mad. She began yelling even more about how I don’t do anything in this house and I act like everyone is my slave. Of course, that’s not the case. I may not do much in the house, but I do whatever she tells me to. And I certainly don’t treat anyone like my slave. Anyways, I stopped my dad, and finished up the dishes. I was really pissed at this point because she had been yelling that I should spontaneously clean the house but I don’t. That I should at least clean the stairs every weekend I come home but I don’t. I’m sorry that I wasn’t aware of this chore that I was never even told about. If she had told me to do it, I would have. That combined with that sexist attitude really had me boiling. I stomped upstairs and declared I wasn’t hungry for dinner. My mom forced me to sit and eat because she wanted us all to eat together. When she called my dad, he said he’d already eaten and didn’t join us. That really seemed to piss off my mom. At the table, as we’re eating, my mom starts to cry. I hate seeing her cry because it makes me want to cry. It wasn’t my fault that she cried but I still felt a little bad. To be honest, she’s been crying more and more lately and she doesn’t try to hide it in front of the kids anymore. I don’t know what it is. Anyways, after that, she ignored me for the next few days. She was at work during the day so we didn’t have to interact for most of the day but in the evenings, she ignored me. After about two days, she was ok but she doesn’t talk to me. She doesn’t tell me what to do. She hasn’t asked me to pray and when my turn to wash the dishes came around again, she indirectly asked no one in specific whose turn it was and my sister said it was mine. She didn’t even tell me to pick up the kids on Friday until I asked if I supposed to. I’ve already gotten over my anger, I was over it the morning after the incident. I get over things really fast. And she should have gotten over it too. But she hasn’t. I usually extend peace offerings if I’m mad at someone younger than me but she’s older and she’s my mom. And the fact that she’s still mad at me makes me want to cry. It has made cry. I feel like she doesn’t care about me anymore and I want to do something really bad to get her attention, to see if she’ll do anything.
We’re going to go see a movie. The newly weds will obviously sit in the front together, how adorable. They really are so cute. Now the rest of us have to cram in the back. That’s 5 of us. A couple people are already in the car and I wait for the other girl to go in first but she doesn’t get the hint and now we’re being yelled at for taking so long and somehow I end up next to you. I tried to avoid it, really I did. I didn’t want to sit right up next to you, crammed against your body. But the door is slammed shut, and it’s you, me, and the door. Everyone else is on the other side of you. So it’s not like I can talk to anyone else besides you. Not that I don’t want to talk to you, of course I do, but to have your undivided, focused attention, it’s a little unnerving.
You offer me a headphone and we start listening. You put your arm around me. You always put your arm around the back of the seat next to you but because we’re all crammed together, your arm ends up around me. I hate to admit it but I enjoy it. All of it. The arm, the headphones, the attention. I’ve felt this way for a long time but I can’t say I know about you. You’re way out of my league for one thing and I never picked up on anything from your end. So I quietly enjoy my time with you and try to hide my feelings because I know they won’t go anywhere. We talk about some of the songs and other stuff in general. I drop my bangs between my face and yours occasionally because the proximity makes me uncomfortable. You lean in really close and say things right into my ear when I do that.
After a fantastic 30 minutes that I thoroughly enjoy, we finally arrive to the movies. We don’t sit next to each other like we did last time. Afterwards, when I ask how you liked the movie, you tell me you don’t know because you weren’t really paying attention. My thoughts wander as to why but I quickly squash them before they wander too far. It’s nothing.
We have some time to kill before the party tonight so we head up to the roof with another friend. We get to the roof and climb up to the smaller and higher roof using a shaky ladder. You come up last to make sure everyone makes it up safely. You start to tell me about this movie. At first, I’m interested. You talk with your arm around the other friend. You guys are pretty tight so it’s cool. We sit on bricks and upside down buckets as you describe what happened.
After a while, I’m not even listening anymore. To be honest, this is starting to sound really boring. But I can’t bring myself to stop you. I want to stay here with you. I want to spend time with you. And this story is just not ending. I wonder if you’re stretching it to spend time with me. No, no you’re not. It’s not possible. I know how I feel but I’m pretty sure the feelings aren’t reciprocated so I just soak in the little moments I get with you.
At some point I realize we’re going to be late for the party if we don’t head down soon. You climb down the ladder first and hold it for our other friend. I climb down last with my back to the ladder. On the second to last step, I’m standing in between your arms, face to face with you, because you’re still holding the ladder. I look at you, waiting for you to move so I can step down. You look at me, and hold your arms steady for a few seconds longer than necessary. I think I see something in your eyes…could it be? No. No way. Not possible. You’re way out of my league.
“Hurry up!” says our other friend.
You move your arms, I step down, and just like that, the moment is over.
I came back into the room and sat down in front of the TV, with you. My thumb rubbed against the base of my ring finger on my right hand.
“Where’s my ring?”
It was a ring my cousin gave me. I had told her it looked very pretty on her and she took it off and gave it me. No hesitation. One of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.
I look over and you’re twirling it on your index finger, smirking.
“Give it back!”
I always turn a bit childish around you, probably to mask my true emotions but I bet you can see right through them.
“No. I found it and now it’s mine.”
“Give it back.”
“It’s mine now.”
I turn toward the TV with a frown on my face. After a bit of time of not really watching the TV and seething but also secretly enjoying the attention, I see your fist move in front of my face. You unfold your fingers and I see my ring. I glare at you and you nod. I smile and take the ring.
It has been a long time since I’ve crushed on someone. Like a very long time. But there’s this guy I’m currently crushing on. He’s so incredibly sweet, it’s unbelievable. He’s a busy guy but he made some time for me to just check in and because it was a rough time, I really appreciated it. That’s probably when the crushing started. Anyways, never met him in person but we skype all the time. He has a great sense of humor. We came together as part of an organization and we’ve been working together for about a month now. He’s a bit older but not sure by how much. Also, I can’t tell if he’s nice in general or just being ultra-nice to me. He messaged me wishing me luck on my exam, which I was surprised he remembered. Anyways, I’ve messaged him about 4 times over the space of a week about things relating to the organization work but he hasn’t replied to any. I don’t know why because that was our main form of communication so it’s not like he doesn’t use the chat. We skyped in between but I didn’t mention the chat and neither did he. I suspect something is going on but I don’t know what. The last two times we skyped with the whole crew, he hung around and we were the last two on the call. I stay on because I have to copy the side chat for the meeting minutes. But he doesn’t have to. So I suspect it’s because he just wants to chill but I don’t know. For now, keeping it to myself as always. If you haven’t noticed, I’m incredibly shy and until I am 100% the other person likes me back, I won’t say anything about my feelings to anyone. (which has never happened by the way) Anyways, just had to get it off my chest.
“What was the last thing that gave you a real, authentic, tearful, hearty belly laugh? Why was it so funny?” —The Daily Post.
The last time I really had a good laugh was earlier this year, during the spring semester. I had seen an article on Buzzfeed about girls who have b—- resting faces and it reminded me of my younger sister, who had been complaining of her own resting face a few days earlier. So I pulled up the article on my iPad and went to her room to show her. She finished up her drawing and came over on the bed to look at it. As she was scrolling through, she started laughing and laughing and then she was crying and then she was gasping for breath because it was so funny to her. I hadn’t found it that funny but seeing her laugh so hard made me laugh really hard and pretty soon, I too, was gasping for breath and clutching my stomach in laughter. We laughed together for a good bit and my sister had to put the iPad down in the middle of the article for fear she would lose her breath. We laughed ourselves out and then went back to the article and laughed some more and finally we made it through the article.
But what I love about that memory is that it wasn’t the article that made me laugh, it was my sister’s laughter that made me laugh.