You like someone.

You really like someone.

You spend hours getting to know that someone. Suddenly, you're thinking her name on repeat. Everything you see reminds you of her. Every song is about her (except stuff like "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together"). You see her behind your eyes when you shut them. You feel comfortable with her, to the point where you almost forget you like her.

And then you meet her friends.

They say that your friends say a lot about you. I get that. If you made a Venn diagram of my personality and my sister's, it overlaps a lot. (Yet somehow people always want to use me to get to her? It's gotta be the curly hair). You look at my best friend Al (we're using initials), and she's that person who's eternally cheerful and supportive and energetic. My friend K has a wicked sense of humor and justice. My friend Ar is confident and funny. My friend C is sweet and a little awkward.

I really like this girl called Sydney. You don't know her. Well, maybe you do. She's an author, and a month ago, she was nothing more than an image on my screen. I read the beginning of a Paid Story by her and got so hooked on it that I rushed to the store that day with $30 and bought a gift card to buy her books. It was the only time I ever bought a Wattpad book. 

After enough comments about how Terra and Terrence should hook up, I ended up flirting with her via Instagram. We got along very nicely. So nicely that now I want to kiss her softly and tenderly until we're out of breath, not from exertion, but from the feelings threatening to overpower us.

Anyway, she introduced me to one friend. Just one. And I fucked it up.

Look, I do this every time. My first crush? I straight up told her I hated her friends (the problem was with me and not them). I didn't even meet 2nd's. 3rd used to show me off a little, but she also made jokes that her other friends got that I just didn't. The one time I tried to sit with 5th's friends, they straight up ignored me, taking 5th with them.

Let's meet Sydney's friend. She's a nerd. She randomly breaks out into song. They talk online. She flirts with Sydney. So she's like me, right?

Except, she's better. She's seriously beautiful. Not like me, where I'm sort of pretty but too masculine to be a girl and too feminine to be a boy. 

She's experienced. I swear I'm the only virgin I know. Like, I'm seventeen and I can't even get myself off. What the hell is wrong with me? I can get my fingers to write 12000 words in a day, yet I can't get them to make someone happy? My tongue can sing and rap but it can't give someone the best night of their life?

She's funny. I'm a dry texter. I'm the type of person who needs time to recharge so I can be clever and interesting. Whereas this girl can talk to Sydney for hours and stay sharp as a knife.

This is just one friend.

So we decided to play Cards Against Humanity online. I introduced Sydney to my sister and my friend J, so it only made sense that she'd introduce me to her friend An. We played two rounds, both of which I won. And then we chatted a while.

First, it was J doing his typical depression thing. It's understandable; he's struggling with depression, and I usually tell him that he's wrong, I do want to hug him, I won't leave him--which reminds me of my ex, but I gotta focus--and I value his presence. Because he is a good guy, although he doesn't see it. There's a reason that I don't like playing group games without him, and it's because his group dynamic is excellent. If depression weren't holding him back, he'd be popular as hell.

But then we throw in An, the new girl, and suddenly the chat took a bad turn.

My sister left. And suddenly Sydney was agreeing with the depressing things. I tried to warn them, tried to say that we don't praise suicide here, and we don't want to resort to alcohol to numb our feelings, but they didn't listen. 

First, they talked about drugs. I am sixteen, and while I've survived an apocalypse and found a doomed love, I haven't done drugs. Once my mom offered to let me get a little tipsy and I nearly cried because I was so scared. I crave control over my world in all ways. To let a fucking substance take that control from me, mess with my mind? No way. Last time I let something fuck with my head, it was depression, and that didn't end well. I need perfect control so I can make sure my mind doesn't turn against me.

J said he was going to drink an entire drawer of alcohol to numb his pain. I suggested he didn't, because he could overdose and that could kill him and somehow he doesn't understand that I don't want him to die. Then An and Sydney started talking about how they envied his stash. While I'm sitting there like, I don't want alcohol. I don't want to lose control and be fake-happy. Is there something wrong with me for not wanting that?

Then they started talking about darker drugs like weed and heroin and I noticed that I was the only minor in the group. Usually I like older people, since they aren't abusive or manipulative or products of their environment. (It's why I don't miss my school friends). 

But other times, I feel like a complete child. I'm a virgin. Never done drugs. Probably will never have a girlfriend because I don't fit the preordained idea of gendered beauty. 

Then J talked about depression, and all three of us tried to cheer him up, and only two people's methods resonated, and it wasn't mine.

It hit me when Sydney started flirting with J again, and then she and An flirted with each other and discussed how important they were: I didn't fit in.

You know that feeling when you walk in a room, and whatever you were thinking evaporates? 

This was the exact opposite. I didn't fit in. The words settled in my chest. In the place where the butterflies are supposed to be, I felt a dull ache instead. My stomach mirrored the feeling. Somehow, the room felt colder. You know, because once you don't need seratonin, apparently you also don't need a stable body temperature.

How could I have ever thought Sydney wanted me? I'm a bad flirt. I'm no fun to talk to. I don't even fit in her circles.

I found it harder to reply. I had lots of words, sure. Half the time, the chat got a notification that read Pyr is typing.... But then I'd select all and delete. 

I'm used to losing my ability to speak. But to type, as well? It would've been frustrating, except at this point, all I felt was that damn ache in my chest.

The depression talk got worse. People started dreaming about suicide. How rewarding it would be to take a noose, wrap it around their necks, and tighten. How easy it would be to take a bunch of pills at once and swallow. How nice it is to buy guns and hear that soothing click before lights flashed behind your eyes and pain exploded and everything stopped.

I should have turned off notifications, then. Instead, I read every single message. Every last one. They echoed in my mind, awakening parts of my brain that I had nearly silenced. So many times had I thought those things: You deserve to die. You are useless and no one likes you. How could they?--I mean, they have met you, right? The world would be better without you in it.

So I guess my mind put that to the test. I hardly replied. 

No one noticed.

I mean, I wanted to reply. I wanted to get them to stop talking about mental illness as if it's a good thing! Why can't I just have normal friend groups where we hype each other up and talk about how wonderful and beautiful we all are and how we're proud of each other? I wanted to do that, to hype people up.

But the depression had other ideas. It wanted to know why I didn't have a girlfriend yet. Why I hadn't gotten laid yet--I mean, everyone else in the chat was talking about how their first time was when they were 16 or 14 or 12 or 6, and I was here, nearly 17, with no chance of even having a first kiss by the age of 20. Why I couldn't even connect to people who have the same mental illness that I'm recovering from.

So I sat there, this toxic mix of not-good-enough and way-better-than-them, wondering what the hell had happened to the friends who were fighting their demons and winning.

The best part was when Sydney DM'ed me this: "I'm sleepy / But the GC is fun rn." 

She's never said that to me. Also, I've never gone silent in the group chat. 

So, yeah. I guess I have a bad habit of hating my crushes' friends. Maybe it's seeing someone who she's closer to, and knowing that I'll never be that close. It's one thing to know someone, it's another thing to know who someone is in public. 

Nothing like finding that your crush is out of your league after getting attached.

Am I overreacting? Definitely. Should I be concerned about whether one of my friends is going to kill themself, rather than feeling bad about how good my mental health is? Yeah. Doesn't change the fact that my friends triggered my depression. Or that I got caught up in a sympathy session, when I frankly don't have time to relapse like that.

Doesn't change the fact that I'm going to have to explain to my crush why I left her on seen. 

When you told me that you hated my friends / the only problem was with you and not them.