Confessions Of The “Crazy Girl”

I’m crazy. Absolutely crazy. Not diagnosed psychopath or anything like that but I am a “crazy girl” and I will fully admit it. I’m genuinely happy people do not have the ability to read my thoughts, but then once my brain starts going, I can’t but think, oh my god I bet that person has some super power and they know about my craziness.

The thoughts that run through my head are ridiculous. I am a day-dreamer and think of the most ridiculous situations imaginable. I like to think I am just extremely creative with a colorful imagination, but deep down I know that’s just what I tell myself to make me feel better. Walking to work, I will imagine bumping into Ben Affleck and him immediately telling me to quit my job and I will star in his next movie. With extreme detail I will think about a situation in which I’m kidnapped and play the entire scenario out in my head until I’m saved and telling my story on the news. Lying in bed at night, trying to fall asleep is nearly impossible. I will think about everything I did that day: every conversation I had, every text I received and more importantly, every text I didn’t receive back.

Of course, the crazy doesn’t stop there but carries over into the deep dark depths of my love life (or should I say, lack thereof). I wear my heart on my sleeve and I have so many emotions I never know what to do with them. I’m the type of person that will do anything for anyone, no matter how you treat me in return. I care deeply and love that much more. I fall hard and when I fall for you, you won’t know what hit you.

I will over analyze every. single. text. I will write, delete, re-write, delete, re-write again (x 10) every text I send you. I will spend the entire morning thinking of something clever to say. I will jump to serious amounts of conclusions and I will spend the entire night freaking out over nothing. You answered “K”: you hate me, your grandmother invited you over for dinner so you re-scheduled our plans: you hate me, you don’t like my new favorite song: you hate me, you took 2 hours to respond because you were working/taking a nap/ visiting a children’s hospital: you hate me.

I will hide this crazy for a good amount of time. I will bottle up all of these emotions and they will come pouring out on a rainy day. I will be the cool one, the carefree spirit, the giver and never the taker until I force myself to break. Like I said, you won’t know what hit you. You will call me crazy, you will tell me I’m making things up in my head, you will call me overdramatic and impossible and you will see how absolutely needy I am.

Can you blame me though? Behind every crazy girl is a guy who pushed her over that line. Sure that line existed without you, and I promise I take some credit in this situation. I know it’s not all you. But that “K”: came after a long text that deserved way more of an answer, the dinner your grandmother invited you to: you knew about for days and yet chose an hour before our plans to inform me, that 2 hour delayed response: you might’ve told me you were sleeping but those pictures of you at the bar on Facebook tell me otherwise. The gives and no takes are constant for months and months and the gives got bigger and bigger.

I might think of insane, bizarre, ridiculous situations in my head but the constant ups & downs with you put those there. I’m taken for granted and I let it happen but that’s no excuse to contribute to someone feeling like they’ve lost all control. I don’t enjoy my craziness but it’s there and I need it to be embraced and accepted. I can contain it and I can hide it but you have to give me the ability to do so. Appreciate me, want me, love me and if you can’t just leave me. You hold me on a leash and I can’t break free. Let me go live my life and find someone who will see me for all I’m worth: crazy included. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

featured image – Shutterstock

I just moved back to Boston. Trying to find my way in the city I once called home but feels almost like a stranger to me.

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