When I was in middle school, I had this friend named Chaeli. Being a socially anxious pre-teen with an oily and heavily parted side bang, it is safe to say I wasn't exactly captain of the friend committee. Even though I didn't have much room to be picky, I felt that I hit the jackpot when it came to Chaeli taking an unknown interest in me.

Whether it be out of pity or sheer curiosity on her part I do not know until this day. I grew up completely obsessed with fashion and British television series, a deadly combo when it came to middle school, a place where it seems everyone's mission is to just fit in and fly under the radar.

Well let me tell you, twelve-year-old Jamie Lee McClelland was having none of that, and she fucking soared above said radar. I wore high heeled boots almost every day and had subconsciously adopted an odd pronunciation of my words, due to the fact I thought I lived in a tv screen and was unaware of reality. I had a dramatic nature, striving to emulate my foreign dramas, and often overreacted to the simplest of situations as though the world were imploding.

You would think that someone who is a bit awkward and more nervous than most would aim to blend in to avoid blinding everyone with their peculiarity, but it seemed the more I wanted to disappear the more I somehow made myself stand out. I was a walking paradox. And even through all these cringe-worthy fashion choices and baffling statements that made my peers wonder what rock I crawled out from under, Chaeli was always there. I was always the person she selected. And it is a shame that it has taken me years since of pushing her (and many others) away and wrongful assumptions to finally recognize that.

I never fully trusted Chaeli's friendship towards me. Rather than accepting it and cherishing it while it lasted like most children are inclined to do, I questioned its validity and was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. I remember her once mentioning something about us being friends when we were older and me plainly retorting, "We aren't going to know each other when we are thirty so that won't happen." To my confusion, she was hurt by this statement, but I assumed I was just being a realist. What were the odds that she and I would carry a twenty-year friendship? What are the odds anyone can do that outside of the movies? Slim. That's not to say I didn't want it to be true. Of course I wanted it to be true.

But what was going to happen when Chaeli decided she grew bored of me? That she didn't enjoy our discussions, or that there was someone who could offer her better ones. Ones where she wouldn't have to endure odd humor and nervous laughter. If I set limitations on my love if I set boundaries of how I could express my affection and came off cooler, maybe then it wouldn't be as low a blow when she left me. When she found that wittier and more beautiful individual, who I knew was bound to come along any day, who I didn't have the natural gifts to compete with. Perhaps someone without an oily ass side bang. And so, I chose to choose people in my life I never feared I would lose, instead of taking the risk and receiving the love from those I adored the most. I actively tried to push away the people I was afraid to lose before they could leave me first and accepted the love I thought I deserved, which was from people who couldn't give very much love at all.

I would like to say I've grown out of this pesky vivid imagination that tends to run wild and escape me, however just this year I refused to call my roommate one of my best friends in fear that she didn't think of me in the same way. It remains as one of the larger obstacles in my relationships.

The difference is, I no longer feel shameful about my irrationalities, bottling them up out of fear of what happens when I become vulnerable. Out of fear of what happens when I voice just how crazy my thoughts can be. I accept that you need to communicate with people about the way you feel and not assume everyone in this world has the same thought process and motivations as you do and is thus intentionally attempting to hurt you or disappoint you. That it is okay to care deeply for someone and to let them know just how much, because even though it can be embarrassing and make me want to shrink into myself, I owe it to the people I love.

I don't want to rob them of the feeling that comes with knowing someone cares for you, over something as silly and surface level as my pride. You are doing the world an injustice by tricking the people you adore into believing they are replaceable or that you could've never encountered them and turned out just the same. So, if you care for someone, or feel any form of an inclination to let a person know you think highly of them, do me a favor and let them know.