Stop Me From Liking You

I hate it when I like someone, the highs are high, but the lows are low. A simple good morning text can make me giddy throughout the day, yet when you only read mine or reply coldly, it can make me cranky.

“Holy shit I think I’m starting to like him. What do I do? What if he doesn’t feel the same?” I tell my friend over coffee. My friend then tells me that maybe I’m just scared to get hurt again after my dark past of an unhealthy relationship.

Then after some careful analysis, it hit me. Perhaps it’s not the problem of liking someone or not. It’s a matter of when. I hate it when I begin to like someone when it’s too early in the stage. It feels like jumping off a cliff without knowing for sure if there’s a safety net in the bottom or not. Of all the guys why do I like you? What is it about uncertainty that is so alluring? Why was this feeling non-existent with the other guys who were shamelessly and blatantly clear up front about their intentions? What is it about vagueness that is so tantalizing? Is it the mind games of guessing and that sheer pleasure when your guesses prove to be correct?

That’s why I have deliberately installed a control valve to this flow of irrational feelings.  I try diverting the flow of energy and attention elsewhere: to more useful things to get my mind off of you. I try so hard not to get happy when you say good morning in an emoji. Oppressing that feeling is effort, I tell you. Complete effort. Because being happy will lead to getting my hopes up. And getting my hopes up, creates a probability of getting really hurt when the outcome along the road doesn’t live up to what I have hoped for. It’s pretty much my self defense mechanism.

The thing is, this deliberate act of nullifying feelings has a side effect I have not anticipated: I now find it hard to actually like someone. So basically by trying to stop myself from liking A, I find it hard to even enjoy the presence of B, C, D, and E despite their efforts of approaching me, even after a date or two, or constant texting.

Does this make sense? Probably not. Because this is a product of a girl on PMS and going through a crisis and letting of steam. Oh man do I wish I could hop on a time machine to that moment in the photo above: just me, the beach, and my thoughts.


The Bruise

monicantik - bruise

You’re like the bruise on my thigh: I don’t know how the hell you appeared in my life and boom somehow you’re there. I notice you when I’m off guard, when I’m not busy with the mundane things in life, when I’m alone and vulnerable. I feel your existence, lingering but only temporarily.

After a while I realize I no longer feel pain anymore when I apply pressure to the part where you used to reside. You left silently and swiftly, without showing any signs. Well there were signs. You faded away. You used to be significant but slowly you blurred into your surroundings. I was either too busy or too ignorant to notice. And then before I knew it, you’re gone. I no longer feel you.  You’re no longer there.

You’re like the bruise on my thigh: you randomly enter my life and you quietly leave without me noticing you fade away on your way out.

But wait, perhaps I’m wrong.

You’re not like the bruise on my thigh. I am.