A Little Game Called 'What if?' created by Anxiety

“I hate you.”

Again. I know it’s a joke. I know it’s just between friends. I know that he doesn’t hate me. Right? I think it’s a joke. I think it’s just between friends. I think that he doesn’t hate me. But I also think that maybe it’s not. Maybe he only says it because it’s true. Maybe he actually does hate me. 

So which is it? I want to ask him. Do you really hate me? I want to ask him. Should I leave you alone? I want to ask him. But I can’t. Because I should know the answer already. And he might really hate me if he realizes I don’t. So what can I say except: 

“Love you too.”

Always the same. Always certain. Always cheery. Always lying. 

Ah, he’s doing it again. He’s looking away. He feels awkward. I shouldn’t have said that. What if he hates me for real now? Can I ask him if he does? 

What am I talking about? Of course I can’t. That’s so childish. Why do I care so much? Just stop worrying. It’s just a joke. If he hates you, he’ll tell you. But what if he doesn’t? What if I’m just digging a deeper hole for myself? Oh my god why am I like this?? Just stop!

It’s okay. Everything’s fine. He knows you’re joking. Right? Nope nope nope. Not going there. He knows, so stop worrying.

“Hey, is everything ok?”

What? Why? Did I look like I wasn’t okay? But… if I’m going to be honest, no I’m not. I’m not okay. I can’t even say hi to someone without feeling like I’m being too friendly. I can’t even hang out with my friends without worrying over acting too childish. I can’t even enjoy being myself without feeling anxious over what people think of me. Even more than that, I can’t even tell her that I’m not ok because I’m worried that she’ll think I’m attention-seeking. Does she even actually care, or is she just being polite? So what can I say except:

“Of course it is! Why wouldn’t it be?”

Wait for it. There it is. That faint little nod. That concerned smile. I know that she knows I’m lying. But I also know she’ll never ask. She’ll never try to find out more. Because she’s like me; she cares about what other people think of her, and she doesn’t want to come off as too nosy. I wish I could tell her that she’s wrong. That she’s not too nosy. That it’s ok to want to ask and know more. 

But I can’t. I can’t admit that she’s right. That I’m not okay. If I did, then she might hate me. She might find out too much. She might realize I’m not the kind of person I pretend to be. She might look at me differently. And I’m too scared of that to tell her that she’s right. I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me. 

“You look exhausted.”

I know. I know I look exhausted. I’m tired on so many levels. I can’t sleep normally anymore. I need help. But I don’t want him to stop looking at me the way he does now. Even if I’m not his first choice. Even if I’m his last choice. I just want to be a choice. So I can’t help but worry what if I’m not? What if I’ve never been a choice to begin with? What if I’m just wasting my time? 

That’s what I’m thinking about all night. And all day. All the time, really. So I’m tired. And I look tired. I look in the mirror, too. I can see that I look like a raccoon. I know I look exhausted. I know all that. Just like how I know that he doesn’t hate me, but I can’t help but wonder when that little voice in the back of my head that tells me he does gets louder and louder until I can’t hear my thoughts. So what can I say except:

“Haha, I know. Just a lot of homework lately!”

He grins. Then turns around. Then forgets I’m even there. But it’s okay. This is normal. At least he’s not looking at me any differently. At least I’m not being hated. He’ll forget I look exhausted. He’ll forget he ever noticed. And then tomorrow, he’ll tell me again. And tomorrow, I’ll get anxious all over again. And tomorrow, I’ll give him the same answer.

But it’s okay. He’ll still look at me the same way. Nothing will change. I’m scared of what’ll happen if it does, so I’m alright with nothing changing. Just as long as I’m not hated.

“Wanna hang out with me and a couple other people over the weekend?”

Of course! Wait, no I don’t. I don’t want to go with them, and just become part of the background again. I don’t want to constantly be stressing over what I’m doing and how they see as a result of it. Actually, I do want to go. I don’t want to say no because then they might hate me. But what if they already hate me? But what if they don’t and this is my chance to keep it that way? So what can I say except:

“Sure!”

And they smile. I’m glad that they’re smiling. I want them to keep smiling because of me. I want them to like me. I know that I shouldn’t be so dependent on what other people think of me, but that smile. That feeling that I did something right. That feeling that I am liked. That feeling that I am wanted. I don’t want to give that up. I don’t want to go back to the way I was when I didn’t care. When I was angry and self-righteous. When I was alone. I don’t want to go back to that. 

But what if they all hated me anyways? What if they told me that they never liked me to begin with? What if they told me that they were just being polite? What if they told me that no matter what I did, they were never going to like me anyways? What if? What would I do?

I don’t know. Everything is just a constant game of ‘what if?’ So what can I do except:

Grin

Laugh

“Sure!”

“I know!”

“I’m okay!”

“Love you, too!”