So sometimes people confess their romantic interest in someone. And sometimes it’s like, “Alright, fine, this is a little awkward, but I’m glad you felt confident enough to say it and in some way make peace with yourself.” And other times, they make it this display of loyalty. “I’ve liked you since high school!” and now they’re in their mid-20s and are completely different people and haven’t kept in regular contact. The best example of a terrible, terrible person who is very good at this annoying thing: Ross Geller. Who cares if you’ve had a crush on Rachel since high school? You entitled prick.
Don’t chase an ideal of a person. Don’t chase the shadow of a person. Don’t chase the past and dig up lawn-covered graves. Don’t think that your confession of love guarantees reciprocation. Were you friends in high school? Are you friends now? Do you know how they’ve changed as a person? Do you know what they want in their future? Love in the past is not love in the present or the future.
I can sometimes be critical of romance and romantic gestures. I mean… I’ll be weirded out if even my boyfriend stood outside my bedroom window with a boombox. I mean. Just knock on the fucking door or text me. Maybe my annoyance with grand declarations of love comes from my aversion to romance in general. Sometimes I think I’m a bit aromantic—maybe I should look into that.
You don’t need to make a damn show of something every time you get excited about it, especially if it’s part of your identity. I hate fandom mentality, and I hate how it can creep into some parts of life. Pride parades? They have a place. They’re like parties. They’re specific events. But when you become a narcissistic cow and try to bring that party into everything, it comes off as fake.
You like video games? Good. That’s fine. But you don’t need to shove it in my face. You don’t need to quiz me in a mirrored way by asking if I know a bit of trivia in order for you to answer it yourself. I don’t care.
I get it. You’re insecure. You’re unsure of yourself. You want to be accepted. And I know there is a bit of grace that is partly natural when it comes to building self-confidence. I’m blessed to have that, even though I’m also often insecure and unsure and desire acceptance. But seeking external and interpersonal validation for something that is entirely internal and intrapersonal (hobbies, interests, sexuality, gender identity, ethnic identity) isn’t the right way to go. Look for a community to share and bond with instead. I’m all about people seeking a community. I think that’s different from seeking validation—seeking a community is a search for safe spaces and similarities and growth. Don’t flaunt your interest in a way that makes people want to tell you, “Yes, I can see that. You are very interested in this thing.” It’s annoying.
I really, really hate pesto. I don’t know if it’s the basil or the pine nuts, but something about it makes me want to spit all over bundles of herbs.
My eye doctor told me to avoid sunlight and I think that’s enough reason for me to hate the sun, but there’s more. My skin reacts badly to sunlight. The sun gives off heat, and I am incredibly heat sensitive. Intense sunlight leads to shittier photographs—diffused light, like on an overcast day or with lighting equipment, is much better. It’s no wonder I always fight the urge to become nocturnal in the summer. The moon is much kinder to me.