unrequited

Maybe it is immature to not laugh at someone else’s rejection of my attention. I do not care about appearing grown when I am back to feeling inadequate again.

I am not going to pretend I’ve never been in this position, as I have risked my feelings for answers in the past.

At this point, I have used the scars that were caused by sharp, dreadful words as signs of strength and bravery when they could have just left behind bitterness I would want to share.

but among the tales of courage, I know there is still a doubting voice that knows I can’t help but be bitter and jealous of my failed attempts for affection.

never did I commit any chaos with my actions or personality. one would want that to be an indication of being a good person, and that type of person will also be inclined to believe that good things happen to good people. they cannot explain why I am still struggling to find someone who can return my warmth and wit. they say it does not make sense.

if they cannot make sense of their fate and mantras not coming true, why cannot they make sense of a vulnerable person taking someone’s disinterest of their being, into feeling the heaviness of inadequacies, rejection, and sadness?

is it too hard to believe one cannot stay strong when their imagination has filled their future with pretty pictures only to allow reality to change their views and leave fake nostalgia?

I don’t want to be mature about this. I want to let it hurt just a little.