Teenage Veracity

why

I'm never liked by anyone. Nobody has ever said he has a crush on me. In all my existence, no one has ever sparked an interest in me.

Like. No. One.

And I have no idea.

It's not that those things are that important to me, but I just can't help but think how in the world other girls are liked by someone and it becomes a normal thing of their existence but not mine. They just step a foot in, and seconds later they receive messages checking them out. In my case, I've already stepped on both feet, but I've never experienced getting messages of interest.

How did the other girls do that?

It's probably the face. I knew it. An attractive face is the obvious denominator. Pretty faces please the majority. I know I'm not that ugly, but not being pursued by someone makes me question my appearance dreadfully. 

I don't know. It must be nice to know that someone thinks you are beautiful. It must be nice knowing that someone is trying to get your attention because they consider you to be their potential partner. Even though most relationships, fresh or stale, are sinking right now, it is still nice knowing that someone is trying, even if it's an immature move, to get you.

The pretty ones must've felt good. It must be nice to wake up every morning knowing that they are blessed with magnificent features. It must be nice to receive flocks of flowers every Valentine's Day or even daily. It must be nice to receive a bunch of messages from guys. It must be nice to have that innate confidence that you can wear anytime and anywhere.

I sound jealous. I'm jealous. I won't deny that. Maybe being deprived of childish romance made me accumulate jealousy for all the girls who had faces.

I'm just at an average level. What's unfortunate about being average is that no one really likes you. The anticipation of having someone is very intense.

I just sit and watch. I don't make a fuss about it because, as I've said, it is not that important to me. I mean it. There's more life than guys.

But maybe I've been watching too many scenes of reality with the girls around me, and that's why this feeling made me all envious. I've binge-watched the girls living the fairytale I want to be in. I've binge-watched my pretty friends get the attention I want. It's annoying. It's disrespectful. My friends are disrespectful. My friends are annoying.

I'll pretend to be supportive. That's what a friend should do. I'll support them while depressingly imagining the scenario of having one. I watch them be liked by someone. I watch them go out on dates. I watched them call someone. I watch them smile, a smile of being in love. I watched them receive gifts. I watch them. All I can do is watch. It must be nice to have one too. But I have no one. Never had one.

Why did my friends have one? And another one? Why can't I have what they have? Even one? Am I that ugly? Why does no one like me? What's the problem with me that they seem to be avoiding? My face? My personality? My stupidity? Am I boring? Am I scary? Am I not worthy to be pursued?

Are they the problem, or am I the problem?

It must be me.

It always falls to me.

I should've tried harder to appear pretty.

I should've tried harder to fix my personality.

I should've tried harder to be smarter.

I should've tried to be outgoing and sociable.

I should've tried to tighten my expression.

I should've tried harder, so in that way I can become irresistible.

But haven't I tried? Haven't I tried my whole life? Why is nothing happening?

It must be me. I mean, look at me; there's nothing special.

I know that this kind of thing shouldn't bother me that much, but it's just the feeling that settles in your heart for a moment and will make you feel lonely. All I can do is sit with my imagination, but unfortunately, it made me feel worse. But I still sit with my imagination anyway.

It must be nice. To do things such as going out with someone and watching movies in cinemas or at home. It's also nice to do slow dances in the middle of the night. It must be warm to experience long cuddles. It must be refreshing to do a late-night drive. It must be delightful to be vulnerable to someone. It must be nice. It must be nice to know that someone likes you the way you are. No matter how negative all things can be, a spark of attraction must be nice.

But I don't have the spark in me. I'll always be watching and waiting.

All I can do is wait to be picked, but that might never happen. When the sun rises with its bursting heat without water to receive it, I'll wither in gray.