So, I was fourteen, right? And I realized being liked by everyone… isn’t actually fun. Like, I know everyone thinks it’s great, but it’s mostly just exhausting. People staring, smiling too long, asking stuff I didn’t even care about, and I was like, “ugh, why tho?”
Then there was him.
He was two years younger than me, and everyone noticed that first. Like, before anyone noticed how he remembered tiny things about me, or that he’d text me at random times just to say “hi,” or that he literally treated me like I was the most important person in the world. And I was like… okay??
He liked me for six years.
I liked him for four.
At first, it was fine. Safe. Easy. Whatever. But then… it got weird.
He wanted ALL of me. Like, all the time. My replies. My location. My attention. My presence. I was like, “bro… chill.” And honestly, sometimes I was like, please let me breathe.
I tried to tell him I needed space, I was like, “I need some me-time,” but he’d be all like “whyyyy?” and I was like, “I dunno, just because.” Nothing worked.
And then came my elder sister.
So, our thing was a secret at first, right? My big sister already knew I liked him, and she was always like, “why??” Like, you know that wtf, why would you like him?? vibe. And I was like, “uh… because I like him?” But obviously that didn’t satisfy anyone.
The thing was, our families were like… basically siblings if you didn’t know us. His family came to my house, I went to theirs, his sister (not the oldest but older than him) was my best friend, my elder sister’s best friend was his eldest sister… you see the chaos, right?
One day we were walking home — me, him, my best friend (his sister) — and my big sister and his sister just randomly appeared. They called us and were like, “so… anything going on here?” And I was like, uhhh no?? I immediately denied it. And apparently, that hurt him so much he went home and cried all night. I was like 😐, wow, okay, didn’t see that coming.
And I swear, he was clingy in the funniest ways too. Like, I could be in my compound just doing anything, and he’d suddenly pop out of nowhere. I’d scream, he’d be like, “lol gotcha!” and I’d be like, “bro!! chill!” Sometimes it was funny, sometimes it was terrifying.
Also, I wasn’t even planning to date him at first. I just liked the crush vibe — you know, butterflies, teasing, smiling when friends teased me, the excitement of maybe being caught together. I was like, “yeah, I’ll just keep this a crush, it’s fun.” But of course, his friends and my friends were like, “y’all should just date already,” and peer pressure + clinginess = full blown relationship. And I was like… ohhhh no, exactly what I thought would happen.
The walking-home thing drove me insane. I love my space — like, I really, really LOVE my space — and he was just all over me. Didn’t matter how many times I said, “I need space,” he was like, “nah, come on, we can walk together” and I was like, “bro… please.”
Eventually, I had to leave. Not because I stopped liking him — like, the crush still existed — but because his clinginess + everyone breathing down my neck was too much. I was like, I can’t do this. And leaving? It wasn’t dramatic or sad. It was just… relief. Finally, I could breathe again. Finally, I could exist without someone hovering over every move I made. And honestly, it felt kind of good.
Afterward, everything was messy. My thoughts, my feelings, the fact that I’d basically predicted how this would end… people were like, “oh you’ll move on, it’s fine,” and I was like, “sure, but can I just survive first?”
Sometimes I think about him. Not like sad or anything, just like… how can one person care that much but make you feel trapped? And honestly, I’m okay with that. Really.
Also, the funny thing is… even after all that, sometimes when I see someone pop up unexpectedly or text me too much, I’m like, oh… that’s him energy and I literally laugh at myself. Because I survived it. I survived the clinginess, the sisters, the family chaos, the accidental public exposure, the peer pressure, the pop-ups, the crying, the walking-home drama… and I’m fine.
And honestly? That’s kind of exciting too. Because surviving crushes is like… leveling up in teenage life or something. And I’m like, next crush, pls be normal. 😭
