Falling in… something.

I met a man I like, and now I’m terrified.

I can’t stop thinking about him. So that’s the first thing I’m afraid of: that I’ll be so overwhelmed and distracted that I won’t get anything done. I’m too busy to be distracted. I rigorously blocked out my schedule for the week, and “daydream about a boy” was not on it.

But what I’m really afraid of is that I’m feeling all overwhelmed and googly and he’s not. I’m afraid of rejection if I say anything about my feelings. I’m afraid of not being interesting enough or beautiful enough to make an impression, to hold his attention. I’m afraid of looking silly and stupid and needy for getting attached that quickly.

I wishing falling in [like? love? no comment] wasn’t something that made me automatically afraid. Because the not-fear part is delicious: the way I feel my face lights up when I think about him, the way my heart beats and I get a little dizzy when I remember being with him or think about being with him again. Maybe the hardest part isn’t the falling — it’s the feeling that I have to hold myself suspended in midair, that I’m not allowed to yield to the wave of emotion that’s sweeping through me.

In the same way that I would fear the water, I fear drowning in this feeling. The force is so powerful, and I fear being out of control. I might float beautifully into a bay — or I might crash into a rock. I can’t see far enough ahead to tell.

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