The Friend Zone: Yet Another Maudlin Musing
The friend zone is a dry, lonesome place in the land of relationships. I see it in my mind as a small desolate country between the lands of blissful friendship and romance, with just a corner touching the even darker land of hatred.
This zone seems to be my new home, and I despair at ever leaving it. Between the gentleman I have written about before and the lady I find myself courting now it seems I am destined to forever dwell in this lonely zone full of requests to move heavy boxes, opinions about their newest squeeze and secret wishes that the aforementioned squeeze will move to Iceland or some other equally distant place.
Is it that my flirtations are too subtle? Or perhaps that none of the people with whom I flirt see me as I see myself? And then there is the cruel voice in my head that says this is really because I am undesirable, and always will be. It is that last voice I try so very hard to drown out, but in the silent darkness of my room at night or the noisy solitude of public transportation that voice gains volume and power. I find myself near tears at times, and other times so embittered at the world I can only laugh at my own pain. And when those moments are over I feel nothing but anger at how elf pitying I’ve been.
Feelings suck and junk, but what sucks even more is how I feel about those feeling, and how I feel about my feelings on my feelings… (Feelingception?) I feel sad, and that makes me anger, then I feel guilty about my anger. And that guilt makes me sad.
On a lighter note, I have so much ice cream…
Yours in Queerness, (from the friend zone)