Liam on a Sunday Evening

I woke today like I have every Sunday for the past “x” amount of years. Today I wanted to do something new, something different. I made this grandiose list of things I was gonna accomplish. It contained things like “create bullet journal, journal, [and] make a budget.” The only thing I accomplished was to journal. And boy was that an eye opener.

See, I have managed to lie to myself and those around me about being over a guy. I’ll call him “Liam.” (Which by the way is a name I love. I find it to be masculine and sweet at the same time.) Liam was what I was attracted to physically. He was tall, brown, and gorgeous. He was very in touch with his feelings, which I find to be extremely attractive in men. I don’t know if it’s because I have been taught to have an aversion to my own feelings, so I like other people’s. Or maybe I’m attracted to anything moody–men, colors, style. Whatever the reason, discovering he was an emotional creature made me all the more attracted to him.

We were both into each other. However, we’ve stopped talking because he said “we’d be better off as coworkers” and that he didn’t want to catch feelings. When I started to journal I thought it’d be like when I did it as a teenager. I would write poems and short stories while playing with writing styles.  I forgot it also conjured up all these emotions just the same as it did before. I was never explicit with my feelings the way I was with this journal. I only recently started to journal to deal with the emotional stress of adulthood. (Which I am enjoying except for some minor bumps along the way.)

As time went on and I started to get into my “feels,” I knew I was not as over him as I would have liked to be. I had invested a lot of head space into one person with the intent of turning it into something more. I also acknowledge Liam will definitely be a topic I will explore more. There are layers there.

I guess the hard part was once I started writing I only could think of all the sweet messages we had sent to each other, the cute things we would say to each other, and the sneaky glances when no one was looking. Maybe one day I’ll focus less on the sweetness and more on what went wrong. As I look at my journal that reads “Faith Hope Love” I feel it’s the sweetness that will propel me into a relationship and not into feelings, feelings that only let me down.



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