This isn't a memory so much as it is just a moment. But moments and memories walk hand in hand, and right now, my hands are empty.
So basically, there's a guy. And he's kind of cute, but I (kind-of-)liked him because he always made me so happy. He's a really decent guy. And I don't want to date anybody, but. Well. He.
And Kylie got it into my head that he might like me. So, I suppose I started over-reading things. But to be honest, I didn't have to read into it too much. You might disagree, but he doesn't usually put his arm around girls, nor does he usually check if they have fever when they say they're feeling slightly sh*tty.
I told one of my best friends that I may kind-of-like him. And one week later, she suddenly texts me, "Oh by the way your-kind-of-crush has a massive crush on Kylie sorry babe".
I suppose I need to clarify; I don't really want to like anybody right now. And it's way easier to deny a crush - or, you know, say that you only kind-of-like him, not completely, not really - than to accept you have one.
I had lied to my best friend about not really liking him - I did. I liked him a lot. A whole frickin' lot. And I really thought he liked me.
(Let's be completely, bluntly honest here - I really thought I was worth him liking me.)
So you'll probably understand why when I came home, I locked myself in my room and cried.
Because, God, f*ck. I'm sorry for swearing so much, but. He was so important to me. The idea of him liking me; it was so important to me. I needed him, perhaps more than I liked him.
I needed the idea that I was worthy of liking, that just because I wasn't the skinniest of my sisters, that I wasn't the prettiest of my sisters, that I wasn't the best or even better of my sisters - I was still crush-worthy.
I was, apparently, abso-f*cking-lutely not.
It wasn't so much the rejection as it was the idea that my sister was always better than me. She was skinny, she was pretty, she was charming, she was social, interesting, open-minded. And I was never enough.
I am never enough.