A Secret Because It’s Not Worth Sharing

by Noise Pollution

I go back and forth on whether or not I actually like this girl or if it’s all in my head. I wonder if it’s just my extremely low level of human contact combined with the fact that she’s both attractive and fun to be around, or if there’s actual attraction there.

And I know. The middle part of that last sentence sounds like what attraction should be, but there’s a lot more to it than that, judging by the weird digressions about other people I’ve liked that I’ve made on this blog.

I mean, those two things I described are kind of it, as far as our relationship is concerned. I mean, sure we go to the same support group and thus have suffered from similar issues, but we’re really different in a lot of ways, and my social awkwardness has probably put up a pretty high wall in between us.

She does keep saying she wants to drink with me, though it’s as a group with several other people and not like, just her and me. Not that I would exactly even want to drink with just her and me… God, I’m really just confusing myself more, here.

I’m trying to make sure that I don’t have any expectations of her here. It’s not fair of me to have any, considering the nature of our currently-shallow relationship. I don’t want to like her because on some level, it seems shitty of me to have this one-sided romanticly-chasing-her type of interaction with her. That’s obviously not right. But at the same time, the couple of times we’re alone are really nice and the joke someone made in passing calling me her “boyfriend” made my heart jump a little bit. Is denying the fact that I’m romantically interested in her just as bad?

I don’t really know. And that’s not even the entire problem. The attraction that I have for her – it fluctuates constantly. One night, there could be literally nothing there, and another I could go home and write a love song about her. Though I haven’t done that yet. So I don’t even know if I’m actually denying any feelings that I have or if those feelings are entirely dependant on how lonely I feel at any given time and have little to do with her. I don’t know.

I’m not going to figure it out. The only way I would really ever know is if I told her how I felt. Then I would know for sure. But that’s never going to happen, ever. This will go with me to my grave.