I know my thoughts are irrational. I know you like me and enjoy being my friend. But sometimes I really don’t know and I panic. I become afraid that I’m the most disgusting thing in the world in your eyes.
You might dislike the way I sometimes turn away when our eyes meet. Or the way I never stand up straight because I’m simply not confident enough. You might dislike the way my voice is really kind-of-too soft for you to hear. Or the way I like to say good morning and good night every day- which- I don’t because I’m afraid it will annoy you.
You might dislike the quiet because I don’t always know what to say. Or my jokes, because, I know, I’m really not funny anyway.
Sometimes I wake up and just don’t feel that good about myself. And when I see you talk with someone else it’s not jealousy but insecurity that leads me to believe I might not be good enough to be your friend.
I know that my insecurity is actually most annoying of all. I’m needy and I need to be reassured all the time. I’m really happy, though, that you always understand. Time and time you tell me over again: you know your thoughts are irrational. I like you and I enjoy being your friend.