Life Is Too Short

 

Listen y’all, I know it’s been like eight years since I’ve posted… this semester has been a shit show. But I’m at home now, I am in my own bed, I can breathe. I’m back, I forgot that I actually like writing, as long as I’m not being forced to do it. It’s a good outlet for me. So, let’s get into it.

DISCLAIMER: This is not a story about a near death experience.

This is about a boy.

 Like I’ve already mentioned, this semester was a shit show, a complete and utter SHIT SHOW. I cannot tell you how glad I am that it’s finally over. Part of having a shitty semester, is having shitty finals week. And sometimes shitty finals week includes shitty group projects.

All semester in my math class I have sat next to this boy, Sam. Sam and I had a sort of banter, that’s the only word I can really think of to describe it. At the beginning of the semester I thought he was kind of weird because he asks random questions and he would look over my shoulder and make comments on what I was writing in my planner, but I grew to enjoy this weirdness. Our math class was full of “characters” and I was usually entertained by listening in on their conversations and doodling in my notes. When it came time for final projects our professor allowed us the option to work with one other person, if we so desired. I was planning on working by myself, but somehow I ended up working with Sam.

Sam and I met on three different occasions, somewhere between 8-10 hours were spent “working” on the project. But if we are being honest, out of the time we were together only about 2-3 hours were actually spent doing the work; the rest were spent laughing, commiserating and exchanging stories. It was fun. It was nice. He was cool. He made me laugh. He asked me questions. He seemed genuine. And, best of all, he wasn’t hard to look at (just saying). For the record, I’m not in love with him, I honestly don’t even have feelings for him.

AT MOST, I was in “like” with him.

On Tuesday December 6th, we had our presentation and that was the last time I ever had to be a math student (hell yeah!). After I left the class (and Sam), I went home (my dorm room) and began studying for my next final. As I was sitting there on my bed, trying my damnedest to focus on intercultural communication, I began to have a bit of a break down.

I was thinking about some things a friend had told me earlier and I couldn’t get the thoughts out of my head. I felt the need to let Sam know that I thought he was cute. I was driving myself insane, I don’t know why it bothered me, but I knew that I wanted to not be scared. He is just a person, a very cute person, but a person none the less. But, I mean still, it’s not a big deal right? It’s a compliment, everyone likes compliments. Why could I not just say it? I was having a full on battle with myself. But amidst my self-induced crisis I came to a conclusion.

Life IS too short not to tell that boy from your math class that he’s cute.

So, I did it. Not in person or anything (I’m not there yet). But, I was brave, I sent a text; I only felt slightly nauseous and my knees only felt weak for a few hours, but I did it. I got a reply to. It wasn’t a bad one, it wasn’t great either. But it was nice. It was something I’ve never done before. It shouldn’t be a big deal. (And I only cried a little after reading the text when I was by myself)

But, my point in putting this all here is to say: just do it! Tell that person you think they’re great/smart/cute/funny, tell them you enjoy their company and like spending time with them. The truth is everyone loves a compliment, especially when it’s genuine. Just please remember one thing, life is too short NOT to be BRAVE. And you never know, it could work out in your favor.

~Probably Cliché.

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