I used to think it was me.
That I wasn’t interesting enough, funny enough. not enough or maybe even too much.
I remember feeling so glad for an invite that I didn’t stop to notice it was so last-minute or that it ended with a lacklustre ‘if you want’.
Still, I wish I could have ignored the half-smiles that didn’t quite reach the eyes, or how I almost, always, seemed to end up in stilted conversations that didn’t go beyond, ‘how lovely is this weather we’ve been having?’
Yet, I’d find myself awake at 2:58 a.m, replaying every word I said, wondering if the awkward silences were my doing. Willing myself to: do better next time.
Then I realised…
it really wasn’t me.
Them either, to be fair.
You see, there’s no drama to tell you. No murders, tear ups, he-said-she-says.
Nothing.
We just weren’t each other’s people…
and no amount of invites or weather forecasts was gonna change that.
Besides, it was exhausting as hell.
So, I started saying:
‘No.’
or
‘I can’t make it’
Or something along the lines of, ‘I’ve already got plans!’.
Eitherway, it’s high time we normalise —celebrate even…
not being everyone’s cup of tea.